My Musical Soulmate
by Tarafina
Summary: /AU/ Mild-mannered, high school secretary, Rachel Berry thought she wanted to live a safe, easy, drama-free life. High school senior Noah Puckerman blew that idea right out of the water. Denial can only last so long. :Puckleberry:
1. Part I

**Title**: You Are The One, The Only (My Musical Soulmate)  
><strong>Category<strong>: Glee  
><strong>Genre<strong>: Drama/Romance/Humor  
><strong>Ship<strong>: Puck/Rachel  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Mature/NC-17  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: 'School Secretary!Rachel and high school senior Puck.' by darlingemory – puckrachel drabble me (part 9, page 75)  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 8,292  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Mild-mannered, high school secretary, Rachel Berry thought she wanted to live a safe, easy, drama-free life. High school senior Noah Puckerman blew that idea right out of the water. Denial can only last so long.

**_You Are The One, The Only (My Musical Soulmate)_**  
>-Novel-<p>

**I.**

Puck wasn't surprised to find the school halls were empty; he was a half hour late for school and he was still dragging his feet. In fact, if it wasn't for his ma bitching at him and practically chasing his ass out the door, he wouldn't be there at all. Sure, it was the first day of his senior year, but what the hell? The first week was just review bullshit; reminding everybody what they forgot over the summer.

He couldn't wait to get out of there; to be done with school entirely. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he did know that had to be outside city limits. He couldn't and wouldn't waste his life away in Lima. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that his ma wouldn't ever let it go, he'd already be gone. He was eighteen; he could cut and run if he wanted to. But she wanted this, maybe even needed it; some kind of proof that her screw up son did _something _right. So she could wave it in front of the yentas at temple and say, "See? My boy's smart!" And yeah, she was leaving college applications all over the damn place, but that wasn't happening. First, school was for chumps. Second, he didn't want some desk job somewhere. He wasn't sure exactly _what _he wanted, but he knew it wasn't that.

He swaggered into the office for a late slip, aviators still on, blocking out all the crappy school lighting that would wake him up before he could take a good old fashioned nap on his History book. His loosely laced boots clomped beneath him, thumbs hooked in the loops of his jeans, and a yawn cracked his jaw as he walked up to the front desk.

Dropping his elbow to the counter, he waited impatiently for the secretary to notice him, preferably before Principal Figgins noticed him; like he needed a suspension this early in the year. The click-clack of fingers on a keyboard drew his eyes and he finally looked down at the woman at the computer.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice soft, sweet, and noticeably not the same that usually greeted him when he was late.

Brows furrowed, he stared at the dark, shiny hair tied up in a bun on top of her head. Young, he thought.

And then she looked at him, a friendly smile stretching her full, pink lips, showing off perfect, straight, white teeth.

"You're new," he muttered, eyes wide.

She laughed lightly, ducking her head slightly and nodding, her bangs just long enough to catch on her eyelashes. "I am." She rose from her seat daintily and held out a hand. "I'm Miss. Berry, the new secretary."

"Puck," he grunted, taking her hand. Damn, it was soft. Clearing his throat, he readjusted his backpack and turned his eyes away. "So, uh, you're kinda young for a secretary…"

Her nose wrinkled cutely. "I'll have you know, I'm twenty-one… I don't think that's too young at all." Retaking her seat, she looked back up at him, brows lifted. "Now, what can I help you with, Mr. Puck?"

He half-smiled. "Uh, it's Noah Puckerman… I need a late-slip or my History teacher won't let me in." He shrugged. "He's a douche."

"That's doable." Turning her seat, she began looking through her desk drawer for the appropriate paper.

Watching her, in her tight little black and white dress, pearls around her neck, he thought if anything was _doable_, it was her. She was hot, in a classy kind of way. She wasn't like the cougars he hooked up with through his pool cleaning business; they were all kinda sad and yeah, hot, but like, in an _experienced _kind of way. _Miss. Berry _was all soft curves and dangerously long legs; seriously, she was crazy small but her legs went on forever.

Standing once more, she turned the slip over to him. "If you could fill out the top, I'll sign it for you," she told him brightly.

Nodding, he took the pen she offered and started filling out his name, the time, and why he was late.

She hummed under her breath, resting her chin on her hand, watching as he wrote.

He glanced at her. "How're you so chipper?" he wondered. "It's like, _early_…"

She smiled. "Oh, I get up every day at 6:30 am, on the dot." She shrugged. "I'm an early bird. I like to work out on my elliptical, go for a jog, have my morning tea, and get in early to work." She blinked her big brown eyes up at him. "You have an athletic build; I gather you like to stay busy too…"

He flexed his arms, lips curling in a smirk. "I play football," he told her, raising a brow. "Basketball too. And I like to hit up the weight room at lunch sometimes."

"It's important to stay active," she murmured, her eyes resting on his arms.

He turned the slip around to her and watched as she signed her name with a flourish, adding a tiny scribbled star at the end. His lips twitched wonderingly.

She grinned at him sheepishly. "It's a habit…"

He shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat." He pushed his glasses up onto his head and nodded his chin. "Thanks... See ya around." Walking backwards, he folded the paper up and tucked it in his shirt pocket. "Probably tomorrow, 'round the same time."

Clucking her tongue, she wagged her finger at him before twirling on her heel and returning to her computer.

Grinning, Puck walked out of the office feeling a whole lot better about his senior year. 'Cause if he had anything to do with it, he'd be getting into the secretary's pants, or well, up her dress, before winter break.

.o.

"This is the third time in a row," she said, standing slowly, head tipped thoughtfully. "I'm starting to wonder about your alarm clock."

Puck grinned. "Told ya, I really don't do mornings…"

"One would think after all these years, you'd be used to getting up this early," she said, digging out her late slips from her desk.

He admired her ass in her pencil skirt, throat suddenly very dry. When she turned back around, he raised his brows innocently. "I don't really like following rules…" He shrugged. "They say school starts at 8:30; I say it starts at 9…"

She smiled slightly. "Somehow, I don't think your college professors will be as adaptable."

Puck paused and then looked at her. "I'm not goin' to college," he said, and for the first time he actually worried it made him look bad.

"Oh," she said, clearly surprised. "Well, I… There's nothing wrong with that. Lima has a lot of colorful job opportunities."

He scowled. "I'm not stickin' around here either," he said, his voice harsher than he meant for it to be.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Either way, whatever plans you have, I'm sure you'll succeed."

Slowly, his irritation faded and he looked down at the late slip, filling it out absently. When he looked back up, she was chewing on her lip, obviously worried she'd offended him. She took the pen from his fingers and scrawled her name at the bottom. When she held it out to him, he blurted, "I'm gonna get outta here… And I'm gonna do something with my life. Maybe, hopefully, with music…" He shrugged. "I could be happy with that, y'know? Even if I don't really make it big…"

She smiled softly. "I think you'll make a wonderful musician, Mr. Puckerman."

He nodded awkwardly, feeling slightly nervous about what he'd shared. Taking the paper, he backed up and finally turned around to walk back to class. As he turned the corner out of sight, he smiled to himself.

She was being honest; she really thought he could make it.

He didn't know why, but that made him proud.

.o.

He was pretty sure she was starting to catch on to him. She hadn't called him on it yet though.

"So did you go to school to be a secretary or…?"

She looked up at him, brows raised in slight surprise. "There was a program being offered, on office work and organization, and I thought it could only help…" She shrugged. "It wasn't my first career choice, but…" She smiled. "I like it. I like interacting with people and keeping everything in order. It's calming…"

He nodded. "Bet the pay's shit though."

Her laugh was melodic; tinkling; it made his gut do funny things. "Well, it pays the bills and I guess that's all that matters."

"You, uh… You got a husband or something? To help with the bills?"

She stared at him a moment, almost like she wasn't sure if she should share that personal detail with him. Finally though, she replied, "I don't. It's just me…"

He didn't know why – she wouldn't have been the first married chick he hooked up with by a long shot – but he liked that she didn't have some dude waiting at home for her.

"But my dads were very helpful in finding a good apartment for a comfortable price," she continued.

"Dads?" he repeated curiously.

Her eyes darted away before she lifted her chin proudly and told him, "Yes. I happen to have _two _dads. They're a happily married gay couple."

Puck thought of his own one dad, a deadbeat who never stuck around. "'S cool," he told her. "I only got my ma… And a bratty sister."

She smiled carefully. "Unfortunately I never had any siblings."

"Lucky you."

Chuckling softly, she handed him his late slip. "You really should get to class."

He winked at her. "See ya tomorrow morning, Miss. B."

Blushing, she shook her head at him.

Progress.

.o.

"So what's your first name?" he wondered, flicking the pen she offered him back and forth, leaning on the counter, watching her as she typed at her computer.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. Her hair was down and long, even shinier than yesterday; it slipped over her arm and fell in waves down her back, against her pretty pink blouse with tiny white polka dots all over it. Lips pursed, she shook her head, "You can call me Miss. Berry," she told him, before standing from her seat and checking his late slip. "You haven't filled anything out yet."

He shrugged. "Yeah, 'm totally gonna hold myself hostage her until you give me your name."

Her brows furrowed, lips twitching. "And just how are you going to accomplish that?"

"Instead of going to class, I'm just gonna hang out here, bugging you, distracting you, 'til you give up the name."

"That's your price?" she asked, battling a smile. "I spend a morning in your presence or I give you my name for some peace and quiet?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Choose wisely, Miss. B."

Nodding slowly, she said, "So the real question is whether I want you around all morning… If I choose not to give you my name, you think you've won, because you miss your classes and you succeed in bothering me… But if I _do _give you my name, you _still _win…" Her eyes narrowed. "Very clever, Mr. Puckerman."

"_Puck_," he corrected.

She took the pen from his fingers and signed her name to his slip. "Your education is very important," she told him. Pushing the paper back to him, she tapped it with her finger. "I might even suggest getting here on time from now on…"

He looked down to wear her manicured nail was tapping; _Rachel B. Berry _stared back at him.

He grinned.

_Rachel_.

"I'll be sure to think of you while I'm in class gettin' educated," he promised, winking before he turned and walked out the door.

He kept his word; he wasn't sure he thought about anything else.

.o.

She called it 'actively sabotaging' himself.

So, okay, he might've spent the first two weeks of his senior year thirty minutes late and flirting with the new secretary. If he had to call it anything, he'd say it was 'motivation' to spend _any _time at school.

Raising a brow as he swaggered in, smirk already growing on his face, he noticed she had a pen at the ready and a late slip waiting.

"I feel it's my duty as a staff member here to tell you that your record for being late is disappointing… If oddly accurate," she said in greeting, signing her name to the bottom before he'd even filled it out.

He shrugged, resting his elbows on the counter and staring at her steadily. "So what are you doing after school?"

She smiled slightly. "I _work _here… I can't be seen…" She cast her eyes away to search for any onlookers and found no one, "_canoodling _with students…"

Taking out a pocket-sized dictionary from his back pocket, he showed it to her rather smugly before flipping through it to find the word. Eyes wide, he read out, "C_anoodle_, **verb**; to caress, fondle, or pet amorously…" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Babe, I was just suggesting dinner, but hey, if you wanna _fondle _some Puckerone, we're down!"

She laughed, a flush riding high on her cheeks. Waving a hand at him, she shook her head. "Stop." She tapped her finger against the late slip. "As I'm sure you're aware, your flirting is flattering…" She smiled softly, resting her chin on her upturned fist. "But I'm afraid it's not going to work…"

He scoffed, pushing the slip away and ignoring it. He leaned in closer to her. "Why?" he asked. "You're only a few years older than me… It's _legal_," he assured.

Lips pursed, she sighed. "We're very different people, Mr. Puckerman."

He frowned. "That's an _excuse_. Why can't you _really _do it?"

"It's a _valid _reason…" She again drew the slip in front of him. "You're eighteen; you're in _high school_, which, might I remind you, I _work _at…" She stared him in the eye. "And what you're looking for in me is simply a good time. Your reputation precedes you and I… I'm not _that _girl." She lifted a shoulder daintily and his eyes were drawn to the delicate silver chain around her neck, where a Star of David rested, not that it surprised him; her nose gave her away.

Something in his chest moved though and vaguely, he could hear his mother saying, _'Why can't you date a nice Jewish girl?'_

He shook it off and focused in on her again. _Rachel_. She still refused to call him anything other than _Mr. Puckerman_. Shit though, he figured it could be hot if he had her bent over a table, skirt hiked up around her hips, screaming it out as she came.

"So we could hit up BreadstiX first," he encouraged. "I checked it out, they got tons of salads and shit. So you're good."

Her brows furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

He shrugged. "I noticed you were only eating like trail mix and shit… You don't like meat, right?" He glanced over to her lunch, sitting on her desk, yet untouched.

She blinked at him in surprise. "I… I'm vegan."

He stored that information away and nodded at her. "Right, so like, you could have a bunch of salad or, I dunno, they probably make vegan stuff…" He frowned. "Wait, what do vegans eat besides salad?"

She grinned at him. "Listen, you're a very sweet boy…" she said.

"Man," he corrected. "I'm _eighteen!_"

She bit her lip in slight amusement. "I know…" She shook her head. "But I'm not going to go out with you… Not for dinner and not for anything else…" She took his hand and wrapped it around the pen, but as she did, she paused, her fingers lingering on his.

He smiled and rubbed his thumb over her three middle fingers, her skin soft, her nails pretty and manicured. "You sure about that?" he asked, voice a little deeper, rougher.

Her eyes darted up to his and she drew her hand away quickly, holding it to her chest and playing with her Star of David nervously. Swallowing tightly, she blinked her eyes a few times and then shook her head. "Please fill out your slip, Mr. Puckerman… Your education is what's important here and I wouldn't want to see you waste any more of it…" Turning her back to him, she retook her seat and focused all of her attention on her computer.

Frowning, Puck filled out the rest of his slip, stared at the back of her head, and finally, with a heavy sigh, left for class.

He'd convince her yet.

.o.

"So what'll you trade me for a PB and J?" he asked, hopping up onto the counter, legs swinging.

"_No—_!" She caught herself and smoothed her hands down her skirt. "Mr. Puckerman, I'll have to ask you to get down from there, please…" She cast her eyes around, watching the students walk past the hall outside. "It's not appropriate."

He rolled his eyes, but hopped down. "So?" He held out a sandwich. "C'mon, Rachel, you got any of that bird seed in there?"

"It's my own personally made trail mix, not _bird seed_," she reminded, but drew out the bag anyway and showed it to him. "And why, pray tell, would I want to exchange it for your," She wrinkled her nose, "soggy sandwich?"

He grinned, boasting, "I cut the crusts off and made it myself."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Don't you have any friends you can trade food with?" she wondered, but handed over her trail mix anyway.

"Sure…" He tossed her the sandwich, which she caught rather proudly. "But I like you better."

Sitting back in her seat, she shook her head. But she didn't argue with him.

He spent the whole lunch hour sitting on a backwards chair, distracting her from her work, eating half her sandwich and watching her pick at his bag of trail mix.

She really liked those vegan chocolate chips.

Yet another thing about her he filed away for future reference.

.o.

"Not that I don't appreciate the company, but… Don't you think there are better places you could be spending your lunch break?" she wondered, raising her brow at him as he sat on a chair in the office.

"You gonna lemme come around and sit in there?" he wondered, brows hiked.

"I can't let you sit back here," she reminded. "If Principal Figgins or, heaven forbid, Coach Sylvester caught sight of you, I'd probably lose my job…"

"Why?" He grinned. "Scared you'll lose control and lemme take you on your desk?"

Her face lit up bright red. "_Of course not!_" She shook her head. "I just meant that there are a lot of classified files back here… No_ student _is allowed back here!"

He shrugged. "You say so…"

Sighing, she leaned forward to look at him; he had a second chair in front of him to rest his feet on and his lunch in his lap.

"Can I ask you something?" she wondered.

"Shoot," he told her, tearing open the plastic wrap on his sandwich.

"You seem very… _dedicated _to… _pursuing _me," she said.

"Yup."

"Can I just… I mean, it makes me wonder…" She shook her head, closing her eyes for a long moment and taking in a deep. "I don't mean to offend you, but…" She stared at him once more, searchingly. "You've expressed a desire to leave Lima, one you're _very _adamant about…"

He nodded.

"So why not put some of this… this _passion _you have for… _women _into reaching your goal of getting out of Lima…?" She smiled faintly. "You're obviously very smart, very charming, and when you want something enough, you apparently can't be deterred, so… Instead of chasing after me, why not put all of your energy into your music or something else that might help you?"

He stared at her a long moment, brow furrowed. "'Cause even when I say I'll get out, I'm still worried as shit I won't…" He dropped his sandwich to his lap. "Lotta people say they will and they're still here ten, twenty, _fifty _years later…" He shrugged. "And I probably will be too." He frowned. "I _hate _it… 'Cause if I'm not workin' some dead end job, I'll be in jail, or dead… All of the above…" He stared darkly at the floor. "But _women?_" He grinned sarcastically. "Women I don't have problems with…" He raised his eyes to her. "'Cept you… You're different."

Rachel smiled sadly. "You _will _get out," she told him. "And I bet you'll surprise even _yourself_."

"How do you know?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Because I've never known a more stubborn man," she said simply. With a nod, she dug out her trail mix and pushed it across to him. "Now, why don't you tell me more about your sister…? You said she was taking a ballet class?"

He walked over, handed her his other half a sandwich and dug out a handful of trail mix. "Yeah, drives me crazy…" He rolled his eyes. "She's always pirouetting all over the damn place… Nearly kicked the TV over last week."

She laughed softly and he grinned in reply.

He liked it when he made her laugh; always made him feel proud.

.o.

Rachel told herself she was going to the football game purely out of a deep-seated sense of school spirit. Of course, she'd never been a fan of sports and had very little idea what was going on, but she based her reactions off of the crowd and what the players did to tell if she should be happy or outraged.

Noah Puckerman wore the number 20 jersey, she noticed.

She told herself that it was merely friendly observation; he was one of the few people at McKinley that she'd gotten to know and she just wanted to keep an eye on him. If he was the only player she watched, then that was only because he was the most aggressive of them all, and possibly more talented than the others.

And, of course, whenever he scored a goal and he made that vulgar arm movement toward his groin, she rolled her eyes, even if it was quite amusing.

When everything was over, she told herself it was fun and it was nice to join in on something, despite how she'd sat alone with just a thermos of herbal tea. She would dress more suitably next time too, maybe even in the team colors.

She couldn't be sure why she lingered as the crowd began to disperse. Until he spotted her, grinned, and winked suggestively, and she felt herself flush right down to her toes. In her head, she listed all kinds of excuses for being there, none of which he would probably ever hear. She was adamant that this was simply because she worked at McKinley and had nothing at all to do with him in particular. She embraced denial strongly, telling herself that the reason she didn't feel ready to leave wasn't that he had yet to acknowledge she was there. And that she would be attending all of the future football, and likely basketball, games to show pride in her place of work and for no other reason at all.

.o.

"If you're going to spend every lunch break here, you might as well start showing up for class on time," she told him, shaking her head.

"Where's the fun in that?" he wondered, taking the offered pen. "Plus, I get an extra half hour to sleep in…"

She raised a brow. "Really? So you weren't idling in the parking lot the last half hour, napping?"

Caught. He laughed, the sound slightly startled. "Saw me, huh?"

She smiled slightly, shaking her head. "If you're not careful, you're going to get in trouble…"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he muttered, snorting.

Reaching out, Rachel covered his hand in hers.

His eyes rose up and met hers.

She stared back gently. "Just because you've made some mistakes, doesn't mean you have to live up to others standards for yourself…" She raised her brows meaningfully. "Why not show them you're better than what they assume?"

"What's it matter?" He shrugged. "I try to be a good guy. I tell myself, 'Be cool, Puck. Be nice.' But it's like, I dunno, I just… I've screwed up so much already that as soon as something goes wrong, I know people are gonna look at me… So I just figure, what the hell, might as well…"

"And it's that kind of attitude that is going to hold you back when you have the chance to do and be something so much more."

His jaw ticked, eyes turned off. "Whatever. You just want me to quit hitting on you every morning so you won't feel bad about actually wanting to say _yes_…"

She scoffed. "As if that'd stop you."

He smirked. "You know it."

Ducking his head, he filled out the slip and handed her back her pen. "See ya at lunch," he said.

With an amused sigh, she shook her head after him.

He was on time the next morning though; he figured she'd like that.

.o.

He didn't know what made him bring it up, but one minute she was telling him about something funny her dad said the night before on his weekly call and the next he was telling her about Beth.

"I was sixteen… It was stupid. She was with my best friend but I still…" He shrugged, shaking his head. "I thought I loved her or something, y'know? I thought… she could be different."

"Was she?"

He scoffed, scowling at the ground. "She tried to convince Finn the baby was his even though they'd never slept together. And he fell for it like a dope. But it got out eventually, y'know? And I tried being with her, tried to step up, but… She didn't wanna be a mom and I probably wasn't ready to be a dad… We gave her up. Nice family. They had a dog…" He picked at a hole in the knee of his jeans. "Named her Beth."

"I bet she was beautiful."

"Yeah…" He nodded. Digging out his wallet, he flipped through it and searched for the picture he kept of her when she was first born. "You wanna see her?"

She smiled. "I'd love to."

He watched her face as she gazed down at the picture, soft and sweet.

"Stunning," she told him, nodding. "Just like her daddy."

He grinned, took the picture back and stared at it a minute himself.

"Maybe you weren't ready yet… But I bet you'll make a great father one day."

He saw the sincerity in her face. "Yeah… I think I will be."

It was crazy, but he wondered if they'd have her eyes.

.o.

"You seem very popular here," she noticed, when he nodded yet again at somebody walking past outside the office.

Puck shrugged. "Not always for the best reasons," he admitted.

Her brows furrowed. "I wasn't very well liked in my high school," she shared, casting her eyes down as she went through papers, over and over, mostly just for a distraction, so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

"How come?"

She chewed her lip. "Well… I was very determined in school… Dedicated to always having the best grades… I think I spent more time talking my teachers into giving me better scores than I did interacting with my peers…" She half-smiled. "And when I did, I don't know… I'm not sure I was normal enough for them."

"What'd ya do?"

She glanced at him. "I was loud and stubborn and I constantly thought my way was the only way…" She chuckled in remembrance of her own mule-headedness. "I was constantly petitioning for things. Better food in the cafeteria, bigger lockers, anything really. An LGBT Alliance wasn't exactly wanted in my high school, but I pushed until I got my way… It took two years and even by the time I graduated there was only two other members… One was mandatory after setting a fire in the boys' bathroom and the other was a very unusual girl who I would constantly find trying to sniff my hair…" She frowned. "But as my daddies always say, my heart was in the right place…"

He nodded and, after a pause, told her, "I like you."

She looked up at him, smiling lightly. "Thank you… Unfortunately that means my closest relationship is with a student I shouldn't even be friends with."

"Student's not complaining," he reminded with a shrug.

"Regardless…"

"Well, maybe those other people just didn't know how cool you were…" He leaned in on the counter, arms crossed beneath him. "You were all stiff and crazy polite first time _we _met and now look at you…" He nodded. "You just gotta show people the real you."

Her eyes turned off thoughtfully. "And you think they'll like me?"

"'Course."

She smiled up at him. "You can be very thoughtful, Noah."

She laughed as he saluted her.

.o.

He saw her talking to the math substitute at break. He was pretty sure the dude was flirting with her; he didn't know why, but whenever she laughed at whatever the guy was saying it made him want to break shit. He shoved Jew-fro into a locker and skipped his next period in favor of a nap in the nurse's office. But he couldn't get her face out of his head; how she was smiling, laughing, how that sub douche kept touching her arm.

He punched his pillow and then threw his arm over his face and closed his eyes.

What the hell'd that guy have over him _anyway?_

.o.

"Hey man, we were startin' to think you wouldn't show," Finn said, nodding his head in hello.

Puck muttered a vague hello and went straight to the bench press. "Load me up," he said, lying down.

Finn and Sam exchanged a look before walking over to add more weights onto the already fairly heavy bar.

"You, uh… all right?" Sam wondered.

"Fine," he grunted, pushing the barbell up.

"So… You've been kinda busy lately, what's up?" Finn said, standing off to the side to spot him.

"Nothin'." He could feel the strain of the weights in his arms; every single muscle firing and burning from the pressure. "School, watchin' the brat, usual…"

"Really? 'Cause…" Finn shrugged. "I dunno, you're usually in the office at lunch… Thought maybe you got in some trouble for, uh…" He looked around to make sure nobody else was listening in, "You were the one who stole the vending machine, right?"

Puck glanced at him. "What? _No_." He'd been too damn distracted by Rachel and all her playing hard to get bullshit to pull off anything like that. In fact, if he really thought about it, the last month he'd been so distracted by Rachel he hadn't really done much of anything. He went to class, a half hour late every morning, did his work, kicked ass in football practice, glee club, went home to watch his sister, listened to his ma bitch, thought up new ways to convince Rachel to give him a chance, did his homework, and repeat.

"Really?" Finn looked skeptical. "All right man, whatever." He shrugged. "People just figured, y'know…"

Yeah, he knew what people figured. He was going nowhere. Might as well start early and steal anything that wasn't nailed down. The hell would he do with a vending machine anyway? So what, he'd have a whole lot of stale chips and a crapload of change. Big fucking deal.

"New secretary's pretty hot," Sam mentioned.

Puck paused, arms straight. He turned to look at Sam, who smiled back sheepishly. "What? Just saying…" He shrugged. "I mean, she talks a lot, and I don't always know what she's talking _about_, but… She's pretty."

He dropped the barbell back in place and sat up, sweat dotting his skin. "Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up," he muttered, jaw ticking. "Her legs are locked up tight. Practically got a chastity belt up that dress…" His eyes narrowed. "I don't even what her deal is, she's _twenty-one_… I've been with chicks _twice _her age…" He rolled his eyes, rubbing a towel over his face. "Even called 'Stix to see if they have a vegan freakin' menu and she _still _shoots me down…"

Sam and Finn exchanged another look.

"Dude… You're trying to hook up with Figgin's _secretary?_" Finn asked, shaking his head. "Do you _want _to get expelled?"

"Please… She wouldn't rat me out," he muttered dismissively. "And it's _legal_. Seriously." He looked up at them, eyes wide. "I looked it up."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think people are gonna see it your way. She kinda _works _here. It'd look bad…"

Puck threw his towel at him. "You sound _just _like her." Jumping up from the bench, he walked over to the punching bag, snagging up the supplied wrist wraps. "I don't see what the big deal is… She's a hot Jew, _I'm _a hot Jew… It's _natural!_"

Sam circled around to hold the bag steady for him. "Look, I get it, she's hot…" He raised a brow. "But there's a lot of hot chicks, so why not hook up with someone else?"

"'Cause…" He shrugged, planting his feet and taking a couple shots. "I kinda like her."

Finn frowned. "Wait, like… Like her you wanna _sleep _with her or like her you wanna _date _her…"

Puck considered it for a second, his brows furrowed. "I dunno… _Both_."

"That's… different." Finn tipped his head. "Well, I mean, for _you_…"

He rolled his eyes. "She's cool… She's _crazy _and obsessed with musicals, but she's also kinda funny and she, like, thinks I'll get outta Lima… Not a whole lot of people do."

Finn nodded, getting it. "Still though… She's the _secretary_."

He focused in on the punching bag and threw his whole weight into the next few punches.

It didn't matter how many times anybody said it; that whole 'she's the secretary' thing just wasn't gonna scare him off.

He wanted her.

And he was gonna get her.

.o.

"You could call me Noah," he said, shooting M&M's up into the air and catching them with his mouth; he was starting to appreciate how much Coach Sylvester scared people. Figgins usually spent his lunch hour hiding out from her, so Rachel was free to chat up. "Only my ma and sister call me that."

She looked over at him from where she was putting away a stack of files. "I thought you didn't like that name. Hence why you go by _Puck_…"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but you said that was the name of some fairy in that old dude's play or whatever."

"Shakespeare," she said, nodding. "And I hardly think that would make you feel any less of a, what do you always call yourself?" She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and then nodded. "Right, a _bad ass_."

He grinned. "You totally just swore."

She scoffed. "It hardly counts if I was only repeating somebody else."

He snorted. "You say so…"

"I do," she said primly. Closing the file cabinet drawer, she walked over to the counter. "So… Why should I call you Noah then?"

"'Cause it's better than _Mr. Puckerman_…" He shrugged. "And I dunno, we're like, friends… sorta…"

She smiled knowingly. "I'm fairly sure you don't just want to be my friend."

"True," he said, standing from his seat and walking over to her. "But you're not gonna let that happen, right?"

She shook her head slowly.

He leaned his head to one side, smirking. "So what's it matter if you call me Noah?"

"I… It's a matter of boundaries," she said, eyes darting away.

His lips curled in a grin. "I don't like rules, remember?" He reached out and took a tendril of her hair in his hand, twirling it around his finger. "So really, you're giving me a reason to keep chasing you…"

Rachel carefully untied her hair from him and cleared her throat. "I'm not running away from you, _Noah_… I'm simply out of reach."

Turning her back to him, she walked back to her desk.

"We'll see," he said.

.o.

"Hey Rachel," Will said as he walked into the office. "Any messages for me?" he wondered.

"Only hate mail from Coach Sylvester," she told him, pointing to the assigned boxes for the teachers, where it was stuffed with post-its.

He rolled his eyes. "It's been years, but she never gets tired of that."

"She's very clever, in a scary kind of way," Rachel added, nodding.

"Okay…" He knocked his knuckles on the counter. "Have a good day."

"You too," she said, before turning back around.

"Oh…" He paused at the door and then backed up. "Hey, I was just thinking… I've seen one of my kids in here a lot lately and I was hoping…" He smiled awkwardly. "He's kind of troubled and he gets a lot of things blamed on him. If he… I mean, if somebody pulls him in for something, _anything_, would you mind giving me a call?" he wondered.

Brows furrowed, she nodded. "Sure… What's his name?"

"Noah Puckerman, everybody just calls him 'Puck.'" He shrugged. "He's in my glee club and I've just been seeing him in here a lot…" He frowned. "Even more so than usual, actually…"

Rachel's eyes widened and darted away. "O-Oh. Right. Yes. I—I think I know who you're talking about. Um, about this tall, mohawk…?"

"Yeah." He laughed slightly. "I hope he's not bothering you. I know he can be… _forward_."

She bit her lip to keep from scoffing. "He's actually very… Well, he's quite friendly. And he's mentioned that he really loves music, so I'm glad to hear he's part of the glee club."

"He has?" His eyes widened slightly. "I mean, I knew he liked it. I just thought…" He shook his head. "He's on the football team too and sometimes, I guess I always figured sports came first, y'know?"

She nodded, resting her arms on the counter. "Actually, I think… Well, he has mentioned that college isn't for him, but that he wants out of Lima and he sees it being directly linked to his music, so…" She shrugged. "Maybe you're fostering more hope in him than sports ever did."

"Yeah… Maybe…" He nodded, brows furrowed thoughtfully. "Thanks."

"Sure." She smiled. "And I'll be sure to let you know if he gets into any trouble."

He waved appreciatively before walking out.

Rachel wondered how it was she was going to explain away him simply being there for the sake of flirting with her if Mr. Shuester ever came back with questions. She spent the rest of her afternoon thinking up excuses and then wondered why. She shouldn't be finding a way around it; she should be encouraging his teacher into discouraging him from his current behavior. But when Noah Puckerman swaggered in for lunch that day, she forgot all about Will Shuester.

.o.

On Halloween, he brought her a chocolate sucker shaped like a pumpkin.

"Here," he said, holding it out to her. His other hand was hooked around the strap of his backpack. "I made sure it was vegan-friendly too."

Rachel took it from his outstretched hand and bit her lip to keep from smiling too widely. "That's very nice of you, Noah."

"So, uh…" He looked away and then back, rocking on his heels. "What're you doin' for Halloween?"

She shrugged. "Handing out candy to some of the kids in my building…" She grinned, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And I'll probably watch '_It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_.' It's one of my favorites."

He nodded. "'Cause I was just thinkin', y'know, costumes and make-up and nobody'd even recognize you or me and…" He licked his lips. "We could hit up a party or see a movie… Nobody would even know…"

For a moment, just a fraction of a second, Rachel really did consider it. For all of her putting him off, he really was a handsome and nice person. And he made her feel good; he made her feel like he was really listening when she talked. Like she was interesting and fun and worth all of the lunch hours he spent on her.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that it could never be like that. "I appreciate the offer, Noah, but…"

His face fell, shoulders slumping.

"I think… I _know _that you will find an amazing girl for yourself. I just think that I—I'm not her…" She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Maybe if we'd met a year later…"

He stared at her hand over his. "You're wrong…" He looked at her. "I already met an amazing girl. And I'm not gonna give up just 'cause I'm a little younger than her or—or she's worried somebody's not gonna like that we're together…" He shook his head. "Just give me a _chance,_" he asked, staring at her searchingly. "I can change your mind."

She sighed, ducking her face slightly. "I _can't_."

Frustrated, he turned around and left.

.o.

He didn't come back for the rest of the week, but she knew he'd attended his classes.

She was surprised by how much she missed seeing him, or hearing his stories about his friends and his family. How much she missed that mischievous smirk of his or the way he playfully leered at her. She missed how he always picked out all the vegan chocolate chips from her trail mix whenever they exchanged food and gave them back to her. She even missed his completely inappropriate comments on how short her dresses were and how amazing he found her legs to be.

Whenever somebody walked into her office, she looked up hoping it was him, only to be disappointed when it wasn't.

She told herself it meant nothing.

She knew she was lying.

.o.

Joseph Adams was a substitute teacher who spent a lot of time at McKinley.

He brought her coffee whenever he visited. She never had the heart to tell him she couldn't drink it because he kept adding cream to it. It was a nice gesture all the same. And he was handsome. Just a few years older than her with carefully coiffed dark hair and a fantastic smile with straight, pearly white teeth. He always wore a suit, in impeccable condition, and he kept a small folded napkin in the breast pocket of the jacket that always matched his tie. At first, she thought he was gay. She even considered setting him up with a friend of her dads who she thought he would just _love_.

Then he asked her out for dinner.

"I've heard great things about BreadstiX," he told her.

She blinked.

BreadstiX.

Where Noah had mentioned, sixteen times now, that they could share a nice dinner. He'd even called to make sure they had a vegan menu.

She hadn't seen him since last Monday, when she'd turned him down for a Halloween date.

"Rachel?" Joseph prompted, smiling at her wonderingly.

"Oh, um…" She cleared her throat, trying to find a logical and polite excuse. Only, she didn't have one. She was single and young and he was handsome and nice. And really, the only reason she could find that she would say no to him was that she had a stubborn boy working very hard to get her to date him. "I… I would love to," she said, even as she felt her smile become brittle and fake. "I'm sure we'll have a great time."

"Great. I'll pick you up at, say, six?"

She nodded. "Sure. Yes. I'll see you then."

He grinned.

And as he walked away, she felt a stab of guilt in his chest.

She closed her eyes and ignored it.

.o.

He walked into the office feeling more nervous than ever before. He didn't even know why. He was still kinda pissed at her. Why couldn't she just go out with him?

"Hey…"

She looked up quickly, her eyes wide. "Noah." She stood from her desk. "I…" She paused, clearing her throat, and smoothed her hands down her skirt. "Shouldn't you be in class?" she wondered, peering at the clock, her nose wrinkled.

He held up the bathroom pass and shrugged. "So… How ya been?"

"Busy…" She motioned back to the computer. "And you? How—How's glee and football and—Your sister? How was her Halloween play?"

He half-smiled. "She kicked ass."

"Good." She nodded. "That's very good."

"Yeah…" He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to her. "Listen… Last week, when you turned me down… _again_—"

"Noah…" She shook her head.

"I mean, I get it…" He nodded. "I get that this whole thing is kinda weird. I'm in high school and you're just, you're not… And you work here or whatever, and that sucks. 'Cause yeah, Figgy'd probably lose his shit and Coach Sylvester would probably accuse you of like child molestation or something…" He shrugged. "But Rachel…" He stared at her. "I really like you… I like hanging out with you and I like that I can talk to you, about my—my family or my friends or just school and getting out of Lima and shit… I like that when I talk, you _really _listen…" He licked his lips, ducking his eyes. "And I know it could really screw things up for you, with this job and everything, but… I think it could be worth it… I really think you should give me a chance so I can show you that…" He stared at her. "You're always telling me to show people I can be different. Well this is one of those times. 'Cause I don't _want _to just be a guy in your bed… I wanna be _with _you, like, the _whole _package…"

She swallowed tightly and blinked quickly, long lashes dancing against her cheeks. "That's..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "That's very flattering, Noah, but… _We can't_."

"Why?" he asked. He reached for her and took her hand in his, turning it over and threading their fingers. "Gimme one good, _solid _reason."

She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her noise. "I have a _date_," she said, her voice high. "With Mr. Adams, the substitute." Slowly, she opened her eyes to look at him. "He… He's a very nice man."

Puck felt his face drop, and his heart thud. "Lemme guess… He's takin' you to BreadstiX… 'Cause they got a kickass vegan menu…" he said in a dark monotone.

"I—I'm _sorry_," she told him.

"Yeah…" He let go of her hand. "I get it."

He turned to walk away.

"_Noah_."

He paused.

"If things were different… If I didn't work here… I wouldn't even hesitate to be with you."

Grinding his teeth, he glared at the floor.

Without saying a word, he walked out of the office.

.o.

Joseph was perfectly pleasant.

He pulled out her seat for her, didn't pressure her to make up her mind on what to eat, kept up a constant polite conversation, and he never spoke with his mouth full. He was cultured and genuine and she imagined her dads would love him.

But she spent half the date completely distracted.

It was Tuesday. She wondered if Noah was watching his sister, Becca. A precocious ten year old who loved to spit, curse, and pull pranks. She was a tom-boy except for her passion for dancing; ballet. She looked up to her big brother and she took entirely too much after him. Racehl imagined Noah would end up making her Kraft dinner and helping her with her homework before he set into his own school work and maybe spent some time working on whatever song he'd been penning out lately. She tried to imagine him with his guitar in his lap, plucking strings with those long fingers of his, crooning under his breath.

And then she would focus back in on Joseph and feel bad for thinking of someone else.

Someone she should not be thinking about.

Someone who was young and far too experienced for his age and looking for something in her she wasn't even sure she could offer.

She'd never expected Noah when she went to work at McKinley. She had been expecting an easy and safe job, something to counter those dreams she'd had as a very young child, of making it on Broadway or on the silver screen. Back when she thought she could sing her way into the hearts of many. Before life reminded her that education was important and dreams were not always reachable. So she put away her dancing shoes and focused instead on her schooling. She told herself that one day she would be happy, with a job and a family and security. And now she had an apartment and a comfortable position as a secretary and she was out on a date with a man who was stable and nice and handsome.

A man whose only goal wasn't to set out with nothing but the clothes on his back, the gas in his truck, a guitar in his hand, and hope for the best.

A man who wasn't still in high school, with no love for education, no interest in college, no roots to be set down anywhere.

Joseph was the better choice. The easier choice.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that he just wasn't the _right _choice for her.

[**To Be Continued**: Part II.]


	2. Part II

**II.**

Puck watched her date from a safe distance, tucked in a booth and subtly shrouded by fake plants. Sure, it wasn't his best idea, but it worked.

Personally, he thought Adams was overdoing it. Yeah, okay, so he had that 'good guy' thing down pat; pulling out her chair, tucking a napkin into his shirt, not talking with his mouthful, but shit was _boring_.

He was _too _nice.

_Too _polite.

Too damn _perfect_.

Puck sat at his table with his bowl of endless breadsticks, stuffing his mouth as he mimicked Rachel's oh so perfect date. And when the waiter wandered by to glare at him disapprovingly, not only for making a scene for anybody close enough to hear him mumbling to himself, but also because he hadn't technically bought anything to eat yet, he growled through his soggy-bread threaded teeth until the douche left him alone.

In the end, he didn't do anything.

Didn't let her see him. Didn't corner the guy in the john and tell him to leave Rachel alone; she was off limits or spoken for or anything like that. He didn't make some big deal out of it. Partly because he was a little pissed that she'd actually gone out with somebody else while she still turned him down. And to a place he'd checked out specifically for _them_, too! But also 'cause there was a part of him really hoping she'd realize this wasn't what she wanted.

And he thought, maybe, she did. Because she was smiling, she was nodding, but it was fake. And he knew, 'cause he'd spent a lot of his time watching her, paying attention. Rachel had different smiles. The one she was giving Adams wasn't the wide, excited, smile she always got when Puck so much as walked into her office. It was polite and stiff and more for whoever was watching than out of real happiness.

Or, he thought, as he watched her walk away in her pretty little dress, Adam's hand on the small of her back, maybe that was just the hope of a desperate man. 

* * *

><p>When Rachel returned home that night, she hadn't even put her purse down before the phone rang.<p>

It was fairly early, only 9pm. Joseph had suggested a nightcap but Rachel had cited a busy morning at work for her reason to get home early. As she walked to her phone, she wondered if it was him; if he was calling just to make sure she made it home. That would be nice, she decided. Although as much as she appreciated the gesture, she couldn't help but hope it wasn't him, because she'd simply had enough of his company for the evening. Which was why she was happy to see her dads' number flash on the call display. Eagerly, she picked it up.

"Hey!" she greeted, smiling. She sat down on her couch and tucked her feet beneath her, settling into the corner, a pillow propped against her side.

"See! I knew she'd be home!" her daddy Leroy said.

"Don't snap," Hiram returned. "She wasn't the last two times we tried."

Rachel chuckled under her breath at their familiar bickering. "I'm sorry I missed your calls… I— I was out on a _date_," she informed them, hoping her voice sounded more cheerful and less forced than she thought it did.

"How old was he?"

"Was it legal?"

"Dads!" she cried, shaking her head.

"You can't blame us for being curious, bunny. The only person you've talked about with any kind of affection or enthusiasm is that student with a bad case of Hot for Secretary."

She rolled her eyes, frowning. "His name is Noah… and he's merely infatuated." She twirled the phone cord around her finger. "It's a _crush_," she dismissed. "I'm sure it'll fade." She nodded, though she wasn't sure she was even convincing herself, let alone her parents.

"Not if he's smart, he won't."

"Don't encourage her, Leroy."

"What?" he scoffed. "I think it's romantic."

"So you've said."

"I was thinking it over last night and I mentally cast Ryan Reynolds. You remember how Rachel said his arms were just lovely?" He clucked his tongue. "Ryan's arms are delectable."

"Please focus," Rachel asked. "I happened to go on a very nice date with a substitute teacher named Joseph…" She smoothed her hand down her dress. "He was very pleasant and handsome and flawlessly polite." She absently picked lint off the arm of her couch.

"Yes, that's all very safe, dear, but where's the passion?" Hiram wondered. "The _flash? _The pop, zing, chemistry?"

Her brow furrowed. "I… I'm not sure I understand."

"You went on a date…"

"Yes."

"How did he sweep you off your feet? Charm you? Send your heart aflutter?"

"Well, he pulled out a chair for me," she said defensively.

"Yes…?"

She cast her eyes away thoughtfully, trying to pin-point any particular moment that stood out for her. "Oh, and he was five minutes early!" she boasted. "That was nice… For the longest time Noah didn't even get to school on time. Every day, exactly a half hour late…" She shook her head. "He'd walk in to my office with that infuriatingly playful smirk on his face and give me some ridiculous line about dreaming about me and not wanting to wake up." She scoffed and bit down on her lip to keep from smiling. "Always lingering, asking questions… Telling me things that I, as a secretary, should not be privy to."

Leroy hummed as he sipped from a glass of wine. "Ooh, do share."

"Daddy!"

Hiram tisked. "Honey, if you're going to ramble off angrily about a boy who's getting you hot and bothered—"

"He is _not!_"

"—then we should at least be allowed to know private details about his life to better deduce if he's good enough for our little girl!" he said simply.

"I want to know more about his arms," Leroy said. "Was Ryan Reynolds a good comparison?" Not waiting for a reply, he added, "Oh! You know who else has fantastic arms?" He paused for effect. "Taye Diggs!"

"We are not discussing Noah _any _further," Rachel exclaimed. "I had a pleasant evening. Joseph's a very nice man! I'm sure you'd like him."

"Rachel, _bunny_, listen to me very closely," Hiram said gently.

She nodded despite the fact that he could not see her.

"We will love whoever you love."

She smiled softly.

"We'd just appreciate it if you waited until this boy graduated. Otherwise, it could prove to be a very sticky situation."

"Yes," Leroy agreed. "But I still think it walks more of a moral than legal line… I'm looking into it. Oh, which reminds me, Rachel, have you faxed me your contract yet so I can look for loopholes?"

Glaring at nothing in particular, Rachel huffed. "I am not and will not be having a love affair with Noah Puckerman!" she told them sternly. "And I'm suddenly feeling very _fatigued_, so I'm going to get off the phone now. I love you both. Goodnight!"

"All right dear, you just think about we said. Love you." He made kissy noises into the phone.

"Love you!" her daddy added.

Together, they said, "_Bye!_"

Rachel hung up the phone and crossed her arms atop her chest, lips pursed irritably. Eventually however, and it wasn't really long at all, her ire faded and a smile tugged at her lips. As not so subtle as her dads were, she did appreciate their endless support. Even if she was quite adamant that nothing would come of Noah's infatuation with her and her… Well, she wasn't sure what she would call what she felt for Noah. She wasn't sure she wanted to call it anything. To define it would be to recognize it. And she wasn't sure that was safe or smart.

Two things Rachel Berry always was. 

* * *

><p>Puck hardly got any sleep that night. He tossed and turned worrying she'd kissed Adams goodbye.<p>

When he finally did fall asleep, he had a nightmare Rachel married the guy and had a bunch of polite little monsters. Monsters Puck had to see every day because he never graduated high school and never got out of Lima. He was just stuck in McKinley, the rest of his life, watching Rachel from afar, growing old without him, too close and too far.

He startled awake, soaked in sweat, and wondered which was scarier.

Never leaving Lima.

Or never having Rachel. 

* * *

><p>She was oddly eager when she arrived at school the next day. She wasn't sure what for. Her eyes kept darting to the door, waiting on his clomping footsteps, his suggestive smirk. He didn't swagger in at 9am; she simultaneously cheered his being on time and regretted not seeing him. She hardly took her eyes off the door at break. By halfway through lunch, she was chastising herself for wanting to see him in the first place.<p>

After school, she packed up her things with the heavy weight of regret hanging on her shoulders. She hadn't seen him even once. Not even passing her by in the halls. But she'd checked and she knew he was at school. She told herself it was just natural curiosity; nothing to feel bad about.

When she walked outside to head home, she noticed his truck in the parking lot.

Glee? Perhaps.

She told herself to push it out of her mind and climbed into her car.

Putting her things on her passenger seat, she then checked her mirrors and plugged in her seat belt.

Finally, certain everything was in order, she stuck her key in the ignition and turned.

Nothing.

Frowning, she tried again, and again, and still, nothing.

Rachel was not a very handy person. She couldn't change a tire to save her life. And she now regretted ignoring it the many times her dads offered to teach her about cars for her own benefit. For all of her young wisdom, she had neglected something quite important.

Resting her forehead on her steering wheel, she wondered how long she would have to wait for the bus, how close it might get her to her apartment, or if it would be worth it to have a tow truck come back and pick it up for her and haul it to a shop to get fixed. She'd heard good things about Hummel Tires.

There was a sudden knock at the window and she startled, raising her head to see none other than Noah Puckerman staring back at her, hands tucked in his jeans, lips pursed.

Undoing her seat belt, she pushed the door open and climbed out.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyes not quite meeting hers.

"My car, it won't start," she said, staring up at him.

Was it wrong that she felt happy to see him? Not even just for the car, but simply to have seen his face that day.

"Pop the hood," he told her.

She reached inside and pulled the lever.

When she stood upright, she noticed his eyes lingering on her legs and backside.

She smiled, rolling her eyes.

Same old.

He circled around to take a look, bending inside and fiddling with this or that.

She watched nervously, not quite sure what to say or if she should stay quiet. She'd obviously hurt his feelings and he was only being polite in giving her a hand.

"You're gonna have to tow it," he said, standing back. "I don't have any tools here. But I got a friend who works at a shop… Take a better look at it there."

"Oh, um, yes, that would be… I would really appreciate that," she said, nodding. "Do you… I—I don't know of any towing companies…"

He dug his phone out of his pocket and hit three on his phone. A few seconds later, he nodded, "Finn, hey… You wanna send a truck over to the school? Secretary's car's dead…" He scrubbed his fingers through his hawk. "Yeah, I'll take care of it… 'Kay… Later."

Hanging up, he turned back to her. "They'll be here in ten."

"Great." She shifted on her feet, fiddling with her fingers. "Finn, that's your best friend, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Known each other since we were kids."

She nodded. "It must be nice… To have a lifelong friendship like that."

He frowned. "You don't have any?"

"Back home… Acquaintances…" She frowned. "I only moved here from Westerville over the summer… I can't say I've made a whole lot of friends since… Some of the staff are nice. I sit with Miss. Pillsbury sometimes and Mr. Shuester is quite nice. Oh, and Coach Beiste is very friendly…" She shrugged. "To be honest, I think I've always been closer with my dads than anybody…"

"They're still in Westerville?"

She nodded. "They call every week though. They're very interested in hearing about my life and my work here."

He stared at her a long moment. "Did you tell 'em about me?"

She paused, her eyes falling. "I mentioned you, yes…"

In fact, she did more than just mention him. Her dads were right to bring it up as they had last night. Truthfully, she was closer to Noah than she was anybody else in Lima, and so he was often the topic she brought up when she talked to her parents about how her life was coming together. No wonder they assumed she and Noah were on the brink of a love affair…

"They know about your date with _Adams__?_" he asked, sneering the name.

"I'm sure they'd like him. He was very polite."

"Polite doesn't get girls off," he muttered.

She frowned. "Polite is safe. It—It's comforting. It's what girls look for in _husbands_."

He raised a brow at her. "You wanna marry some safe guy, Rachel?" He walked toward her, his gait almost predatory. "Huh? You wanna have _safe_ little kids running around at your feet? Work at McKinley your whole life. Never make it out of Ohio. Waste away being some guy's safe, nice, _polite _wife?"

She stared up at him, her breath leaving her quickly, chest heaving. He was so close she could smell him, his cologne, his body wash. He stared down at her, his eyebrows set in dark slashes above his eyes.

"What happens when you want to feel beautiful, huh? When you wanna feel how much he wants you?" He took her arms into his hands and squeezed. "What happens when you want him to tear your perfect little dresses off you or rip open your blouses?" He buried a hand in her hair, tangling it around his fingers. "What happens when want passion? When you wanna get _fucked_, good and hard?" He shook his head. "You think your _polite_ little husband's gonna do it for you?"

He ducked his head down, his nose grazing hers. "You're gonna turn out like all the sad, miserable housewives who chase after the guy cleaning their pools… You're gonna look for some young stud to make you feel better because you lost your chance when you picked the guy with the tie and the suit and the manners…" He gripped the nape of her neck and her head fell back, her mouth parting for him on a faint gasp. "And when he's making love to you, real slow and boring, you're gonna remember me… You're gonna remember how I made you feel without even touching you… How I _looked _at you and how I _talked _to you, and how that got you a whole lot hotter than anything he _ever _does…"

She could feel his body, hard and firm, pressed tight to hers. Her knees shook and her hands held his waist to keep her steady.

"What d'you really _want_, Rachel?"

She stared up at him, at his hazel eyes filled with want and hurt and a little bit of anger. At his firm mouth and the tense lines of his jaw. At the strip of hair along his head, just long enough for her to grip.

"What I can't have," she murmured honestly.

A growl left him before his lips slanted across hers.

She whimpered both in surprise and relief. Her hands balled the fabric of his sweater up in her palms, while she arched up into his hard, unforgiving frame. She felt his fingers press against the small of her back and her front flattened against him, fitting just right against the contours of his body. His tongue swept inside and tangled with hers; flicked the roof of her mouth and dabbed the back of her teeth. He nipped at her lips, sipped from them, hardly parting for more than a gasping breath before he maneuvered her back, lips never quite leaving hers. She felt the door of her car at her back and his hands, hot and rough, grip her firmly beneath her thighs. He lifted her up and she gathered him closer by his waist, legs locking around it. A hand buried at the nape of his neck, fingers furled in the tail of his 'hawk. Kissing him, _being _kissed by him, felt _amazing_; she swore she saw bursts of light behind her eyes every time his tongue dragged across hers. His hands kneaded the underside of her thighs, sliding ever higher until she could feel them cupping the curves of her butt and stroking in lazy circles.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong_, she told herself.

But it felt so _right, right, right_.

It was a honking horn that finally brought back her senses.

A tow truck was pulling into the parking lot and she yanked herself back, her head ricocheting off her car. "Ow," she muttered, wincing.

He laughed slightly, brow raised.

His lips were puffy and red and he was grinning at her again; maybe smirking was more accurate.

She unhooked her legs from around him and let them drop to the ground. "That…" She cleared her throat and slid out from in front of him. "That can never happen again," she said, wiping at her lips with a shaky hand.

He hooked his thumbs in the loops of his jeans and tipped his head. "Okay."

She blinked quickly in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

He nodded, walking backwards from her. "I won't kiss you again."

"I… I… Well, that—That's good. That's… exactly what I wanted," she said, though she felt a distinct stab of disappointment.

He grinned, turning to wave at the tow truck driver. "Doesn't mean _you_ won't kiss me," he said smugly.

She turned to look at him with wide eyes. "I—_What?_"

He looked over at her determinedly. "You're gonna dump Adams, Rachel…"

"Oh am I?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "And why would I do that?"

"Because he can't make you feel the way I do." He turned to meet her head on. "And 'cause you know this is right… That me and you make sense."

"What I know is that you are a _student _and I should not be having _any _kind of relationship with you… Not—Not physical, not emotional, not _anything_." She stared at him searchingly. "I—I appreciate your help with my car, No…" She sighed. "Mr. Puckerman," she said, nodding. "But I don't think we'll be able to continue our friendship." She turned away from him then and walked to her car to get out her things.

He stared after her, expression stark.

Hugging her belongings to her chest, she walked toward the tow truck driver.

"You're gonna change your mind," he called after her.

It sounded like a promise.

She didn't doubt it. 

* * *

><p>Puck spent a week practicing the song, in between glee, football, his little sister, and working at the shop on Rachel's car. Burt was good enough to just hand him a toolbox and let him work. Although there were a few times he offered him a job and Puck had given it some serious thought. But he already had a lot on his plate, even if the money would come in handy. After a few hours at Hummel tires, he went home to watch his sister, make her something to eat, and make sure she got her homework done. Occasionally, he even managed to get his own finished. Altogether, it meant his nights were a lot longer, staying up late to work on a song he didn't imagine she would ever hear, but still wanted to get just right.<p>

His hands felt raw from playing his guitar, over and over again, until the tune was practically imprinted on his fingertips. He hadn't played the harmonica in years; not since his zayde first showed him how. He had to learn it again real quick. It wasn't easy, even if he went into it figuring it'd be just like riding a bike. But he got it and it felt familiar in his hands once more. He figured Ephraim would appreciate his dedication.

He didn't stop by her office once. He wanted to. Damn, did he ever. He couldn't get her off his mind. Not the way she looked; staring up at him with those big, brown, _hungry _eyes. She wanted him. Almost, maybe even _as much_ as he wanted her. She wanted his hands on her and his mouth; she wanted to feel all those things he promised he could give her. That he promised Adams _couldn't_. He fell asleep every night thinking about how her lips felt against his; how her tongue met his; how her fingers gripped his hair. And he promised himself he'd feel it again. That she would be the one to initiate it.

He wouldn't be the only doing the chasing. Not when he knew she wanted it as much as him. He'd spent too much of his life wanting things and sometimes even getting them, only to have them leave him in the end.

It wouldn't be the same with her and he knew it. He just, he _knew_ she would be different for him.

It was the only hope left he had. 

* * *

><p>Rachel told herself that it was simply polite to hand-deliver the message. Sure, she could've had Will paged or even called the choir room, but she was done for the day anyway and what could it hurt to stop by and see the glee club in action? She'd heard good things. This last week she'd spent her lunch break with the rest of the staff, avoiding her office on the off-chance Noah decided to stop by, and Will had encouraged her to drop in and hear them. He boasted about how talented they were; how they were bound to take Nationals this year. So really, she was only acting on the encouragement of a fellow staff member.<p>

As she drew closer, she could hear a guitar being strummed, and what a beautiful tune it was.

And then, a voice like never she'd heard before…

_I bit my tongue in the ark of conversation  
>I don't know why<br>I don't know why  
>I've met you once and I've fallen for your notions<br>I don't know why  
>I don't know why<em>

As she stepped into the doorway of the choir room, she spotted Noah on a stool, guitar in his lap, voice carrying out across the room.

The glee club tapped their feet, swaying to the beat.

_Do you believe that there's treasures in the ocean?  
>Did I say I'm just a boy?<em>

He closed his eyes and shook his head, lifting his head back to sing a little deeper.

_One kiss from you and I'm drunk up on your potion  
>That big old smile is all you wore<em>

She stepped further into the room, her hand gripping the Star of David at her throat.

He looked beautiful. So natural, holding his guitar, foot tapping against his stool.

_Girl you make me want to feel  
>Things I've never felt before<br>Girl you make me want to feel  
>Did I say I'm just a boy?<br>Did I say I'm just a boy?  
>You can hold me to that<em>

She swallowed tightly, feeling the honesty of his words; of his voice reaching out.

Her heart skittered in her chest, pulse hammering at her throat.

He leaned in and mouthed the harmonica attached to an apparatus around his neck, holding it steady in front of him.

The sounds he made from that gold instrument were hauntingly beautiful.

_No lonely hands grab my suitcase full of nothing  
>I don't know why<br>I don't know why_

His eyes opened, fingers gliding along the strings once more.

Grinning, he leaned in to his voice.

_You took me in gave me something to believe in  
>That big old smile is all you wore<em>

Rachel felt her breath leave her then as he turned and spotted her.

Surprise flickered across his face quickly before he caught her eyes.

Climbing from his stool, he walked toward her, and didn't miss a beat as he sang directly to her.

_Girl you make me want to feel  
>Things I never felt before<br>Girl you make me want to feel  
>Did I say I'm just a boy?<br>Did I say I'm just a boy?  
>You can hold me to that…<em>

As his guitar faded away and he was left standing in silence, the club roared their approval with applause.

Rachel stared up into the serious hazel eyes boring into her own, the overwhelming desire to shower him in her approval radiated through her body and centered itself in her lips. She wanted to kiss him; to take that voice of his inside her; to trace his lips, that moved so elegantly, that produced such beautiful music, with her own. In the most unprofessional manner possible.

"Miss. Berry," Will said suddenly. He circled around to pat her shoulder. "We weren't expecting you. You've finally taken me up on my offer to hear the kids sing!"

"I-I…" She blinked hastily and cleared her throat, turning to face the teacher. "Actually, there was a message for you. I was on my way home and I thought I'd drop in and let you know…"

He frowned cautiously. "Not more of Sue's hate-mail, I hope."

She smiled shakily. "No, no, nothing like that…"

"Well, hey, if you were done for the day, why don't you stick around?" he suggested. "The girls prepared a song."

"I really can't. But…" She turned to look at Noah. "You were wonderful out there. I… I've never heard such passionate sincerity before…"

He nodded at her, jaw clenched shut.

"He's really come along." Will reached out to clap Puck's arm. "I think you were right, Miss. Berry, when you said that music obviously had a special place with him."

Puck glanced at him, brows furrowed.

"Y'know, Puck, I don't know why I never brought it up to you before, but… There are a _lot _of great musical scholarships out there… I really hope you'll look into them."

Rachel smiled. "You should." She nodded. "Even if you think school is for suckers." She shook her head. "Your talent shouldn't be wasted."

Puck stared at her a long moment.

"Exactly!" Will cheered, completely oblivious to the moment between them.

"Sure you don't wanna stay?" Puck finally asked, raising a brow.

She glanced behind him at the others. "I have to catch a bus home… My car isn't ready yet. It's been a long day."

"Oh, well, I can drive you," Will offered kindly.

She looked between them uncertainly.

"Please, Rachel, stay… I promise you, you won't be disappointed…"

Puck smirked. "He promises."

Sighing, she nodded. "Fine…"

"Great." Drawing her out in front of the rest of them, Will introduced her to the club. "Guys, this is Miss. Berry, she'll be sitting in today."

They gave a friendly wave in reply as Will pointed out each person for her and named them.

Puck grabbed up another chair for her and conveniently planted it right next to his own.

Not wanting to be a bother, she simply took it, and spent the rest of the time trying to pay serious attention to the girls who stood to sing for them. She was sure they were talented, but she didn't remember a word of what was sung because she was too distracted by Noah's knee leaning against her own and how every once in a while his foot would nudge hers.

She knew he was doing it on purpose, but she was helpless to her reaction to him, how her skin warmed and tingled, how she waited with almost breathless anticipation for that next tap of his foot or bump of his knee.

It really wasn't fair.

Especially when Will asked her what she thought of the performance and she had to lie through her teeth and tell him she was just speechless from how tremendous they were. She was fairly sure Noah was smirking at her knowingly; she chose not to look, if only because it would give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. 

* * *

><p>When Rachel finally got her car out of the shop, she wasn't charged a dime. They said Noah or, as they referred to him, "Puck" fixed it himself, just borrowed a few tools. In fact, Burt, the shop owner, spent a few minutes talking about Puck's determination to do it all himself, mentioning that he was a great worker and that if he ever wanted it, he had a job with them. Rachel offered polite support in that but was careful not to say too much. She was already a little concerned by how much Puck had done for her and what it might look like to others. He'd even called in a favor with the tow-trucker so she didn't have to pay him either.<p>

Driving home that night, in a car that moved smoother than she could ever remember, she honestly didn't know what to do with the information she'd gathered.

Should she thank him?

Tell him it wasn't necessary and demand he let her pay him for his services?

In the end, she admired the new car freshener he hung on her mirror; it was a gold star that smelled faintly of honey. 

* * *

><p>She was fairly sure he was playing a cat and mouse game. Only now she was supposed to be the cat and he the mouse. And much as it chagrined her, she was falling into his plan all too easily. He wasn't visiting her at lunch anymore, which left her feeling miserable and lonely. Especially since she'd given up on the staff room and returned to her office and watching the door for any sign of him. She missed how he would pull up a chair and take over her whole lunch hour, asking her questions and filling her in on his life. She knew entirely too much about a boy she should only have a passing notice of.<p>

So she went looking for him.

It was stupid, obviously. Her plan really didn't have any weight to it. But she wandered through the halls, eyes flitting over faces, thinking up lies should anybody ask her why she wasn't in the office; who she might be looking for; why she wasn't in the staff room or otherwise busy. She noticed some of the glee club lingering by some lockers. A couple of them nodded at her in recognition. She couldn't remember any of their names. Although, she was fairly certain the very tall brunet boy was Finn Hudson, Noah's best childhood friend. And the blond boy next to him was Sam, or Big Lips as Noah occasionally referred to him. And the Asian boy must be Mike Chang, for obvious reasons, as well as the fact that he was break dancing for all to see, and Noah had mentioned on a number of occasions that his friend Mike was a very adept dancer.

There was a moment where she almost paused to ask them if they knew where Noah was, but she wrote it off as quickly as it struck her. She _shouldn't _be asking after him, therefore she _wouldn't_.

She wandered for nearly her entire lunch before she finally spotted him in the choir room, sitting on a chair, picking at his guitar.

She didn't know why she didn't check there first.

She paused outside the door and fought with herself about whether she should go in. If she did, she would be alerting him to the fact that she'd been looking for him instead of doing what she should by discouraging him from lingering in her office. The more appropriate thing to do would be to get her fill of looking at him and take her leave.

He ruined it by raising his head and spotting her.

He grinned like she'd done exactly what he expected of her.

Frowning, she stepped inside and told him, "I was looking for Will."

He raised a brow. "No you weren't."

She scowled. "Yes, I was."

He shrugged. "You say so."

"I _was_."

He laughed.

She felt the unbecoming urge to stomp her foot.

Instead she twirled on her heel to leave.

"You look nice today… Dress is pretty."

She paused and looked at him over her shoulder.

Rats! He was entirely too charming for his own good.

"This isn't going to work, Noah."

He smiled down at his guitar. "You're the one looking for me," he reminded.

Sighing, she told him, "I was looking for Will!" and then she fled from the room.

But damn it, he was right. 

* * *

><p>Puck picked up a few shifts at Hummel Tires. Yeah, he was already pretty overrun, but he figured he'd need the money, especially with Hanukkah coming up.<p>

It was cool to hang out with Finn anyway, even if he was kind of clumsy and Puck always felt like he had to double-check his work before sending anybody out in their car. Burt was a cool dude; the kind of dad he always wished he'd had in his life. Kurt and Finn were lucky. Unfortunately, it sometimes reminded Puck what was missing in his life. Which also reminded him how much it sucked that he couldn't stop by the office and talk to Rachel. She had a way of listening to him, of helping him figure things out, putting it all into perspective. But he had a plan; one he was really hoping wouldn't backfire on him. Yeah, he was missing her, but what he really wanted was for her to miss _him_.

So he worked at the garage and he went to school and he avoided the office even though it was exactly where he wanted to be.

If he occasionally sent Brittany, 'cause she was the only one who wouldn't know or question why he was interested, to check on Rachel and feed him intel on her, then he was just doing what he had to to get by.

"She's wearing a purple polka-dot dress," Brittany told him, nodding as she eyed the cupcake he held in front of her, covered in rainbow sprinkles. "She's pretty." She snapped her fingers as she remembered. "And she looked up real quick when I walked in but then she looked disappointed it was me…" She tipped her head, brows furrowed. "Also, she told me there was no such thing as the patch for cats, but I told her I already bought one from a really nice guy selling watches out of his jacket downtown…" She pouted. "Lord Tubbington is smoking more than ever and now he has a bald spot where I tried to stick the patch on..."

Puck blinked at her. "Thanks Britt." He handed her the cupcake, half-smiling when she cried out excitedly and skipped down the hall with her reward.

He walked away vaguely satisfied with the result.

Something was better than nothing. 

* * *

><p>It went on until December. An entire month of him not being there and her <em>wanting <em>him to be there. She went out with Joseph twice more before finally telling him that she was too busy for a relationship and sorry that she might have been leading him on. He was polite about it, accepting that she simply wasn't in the right position for dating at the time. She thought it was rather funny that this man she thought was so easy and perfect and exact husband material had given up on her as soon as she hit the brakes. Noah had been trying since day one and even without his constant visits and requests for a date, _still_ managed to pursue her. Rejection after rejection, he still hadn't given up.

December 1st, she told herself she would stop looking for him.

She would stop glancing at the door every time somebody walked in.

She would stop checking to see if he was at school that day.

She would stop walking by the choir room in the hopes of hearing him sing.

She would stop _all of it_.

And she thought she did a pretty good job of it.

Until his gifts started showing up.

On the first day of Hanukkah, she found a dreidel on her desk. It was small and simple and quite comforting considering this would be her first Hanukkah away from home. Her dads were going away for a winter vacation to somewhere warm and while they'd invited her, she wanted them to have some time to themselves.

On the second day, she found a handful of Hanukkah gelt; he even made sure they were vegan-friendly.

On the third day, she returned to find a miniature electric menorah; with the press of a button it lit up beautifully.

On the fourth, she found a plate of misshapen sugar cookies; it was the thought that counted, especially when they tasted like cardboard.

The fifth was delivered in a card to her house; a tree had been planted in her name.

The sixth arrived early Sunday morning; a colorful mug full of her favorite tea.

The seventh was a small blue and silver trinket box; it was beautiful.

And the eighth was just a card with a promise in it.

_I can make you happy_.

It was her favorite. 

* * *

><p>"Hey Puck," Burt said, walking toward him with a dirty rag in hand, wiping at his grease covered fingers.<p>

Puck cracked his back as he came out from beneath the hood of a car, frowning as he twisted side to side to get the kinks out. With a nod, he greeted, "Sup, Mr. Hummel?"

"Nothin'…" He Shrugged. "Y'know, just wanted to see how you were doin'… I know you said you were pretty overloaded with school and stuff. And you've been workin' pretty hard for us since you got here." He looked back and forth between him and the car.

"Yeah. This one's almost done." He pointed a thumb back. "Oh, and I checked out that Nissan Finn was working on." He shrugged. "No worries. He forgot a wrench under the hood when he was cleaning up, but it was safe to drive."

Burt nodded, sighing slightly, a half-smile playing over his mouth. "Kid's a great worker, he's just…" He shook his head. "Forgetful, y'know?"

"Yeah… He's workin' hard though. I think he really wants to make you proud." He shrugged. "Cash is good too."

"Yeah." He nodded, brows hiked. "Christmas really takes a lot out of us… And now it's just a couple more months to Valentine's day." Scrubbing his fingers over the back of his head, he popped his hat off and sighed. "Well, works out in the end, right? Work hard, spend too much money, but I got a good family… Good woman…" He eyed Puck sideways, brow quirked.

"Yeah…" He nodded, turning his attention to the tool box balanced on the car. "Carole's pretty awesome."

"She is," he agreed. "You, uh… You got a girl or… _woman _in your life?" he wondered awkwardly.

Puck glanced over at him. "'m the Puckasaurus, right?" he played off.

"Yeah… Yeah…" He laughed, tossing his rag over his shoulder. "Well, I was just wondering… I mean, you put in some pretty detailed work on that young lady's car… She was a pretty little thing." He shrugged. "Talkative. Real cheerful…"

He snorted. "We really having this talk?"

"Look, Puck…" He held his hands up. "Normally, I wouldn't say a thing… Your relationship, your business…" He stared at him thoughtfully. "But Robbie said we got a call to pick up the _secretary's _car, and I just wouldn't be doing my job as a dad if I didn't ask a few questions…" He raised a brow. "Now, Miss. Berry seemed like a real nice lady… But with her workin' at the school and you… bein' a _student _there…" He trailed off meaningfully.

Puck licked his lips, staring down at the wrench in his hand a long second. "Look, Mr. Hummel, if you're askin' if I _like_her…" He nodded, eyes wide with honesty. "Yeah. I do." He shrugged. "But if you're askin' if anything happened that'd get us on Dateline…" He shook his head. "No…" He frowned. "Thing is… I'm eighteen and she's twenty-one… It's legal. Maybe the situation isn't kosher and trust me, she agrees with you…" He snorted. "I've spent every day since I met her tryin' to be good enough for her and tryin' to get her to gimme a chance, but… She's not goin' for it. 'Cause she works at my school and yeah, people'd think it was wrong or fucked or _whatever_, but…" He looked over at him. "My whole life, I've been told what I'm not and what I can never have and I'm tired of it… Maybe I'm still in high school, but I'm an adult. I make my own decisions, good or bad. And Rachel?" He nodded. "She'll probably be the best thing I ever do."

He sighed. "I remember what it was like to be your age, Puck…" He reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret… Or anything that can get you or this lady friend of yours in trouble." He stared at him searchingly.

Puck nodded, casting his eyes down. "'Preciate it… You're, uh… You're a good dad, y'know?"

Burt half-smiled. "I try to be."

Clearing his throat, Puck turned toward the car. "I think I'll finish this one up and then head home… All right?"

"Yeah." Burt clapped his shoulder and nodded shortly. "Thanks for your help around here."

"Sure."

Puck buried himself back beneath the car. He appreciated Burt's little heart-to-heart, but his mind wasn't changed. 

* * *

><p>Rachel had just hopped out of the shower when the phone rang. She had a towel wrapped tight around her and was dripping all over the floor as she cursed under her breath and hurried to where her phone sat in her living room. She didn't glance at the caller display before she picked it up, instead brushing dripping hair off her shoulder and tucking it behind her ear as she asked, "Hello?"<p>

He didn't bother with pleasantries. "What are you doing New Year's Eve?"

It was wrong really, but her heart leapt at the sound of his voice. It seemed like it'd been forever since she'd spent any time with him. Still… "How did you get my number?" She frowned. For that matter, how'd you get my address?"

"You gave it to the guys at Finn's shop. I looked it up."

She rolled her eyes. "_Illegally_."

"Kinda… I mean, I work there… Nobody said _not _to do it. Besides, it's better than breaking into the school for it." He snorted. "That didn't pan out well the first time..."

She gasped, imagining all the ways that could've gone wrong. He could've been caught; _arrested!_ "Noah!"

He laughed, not the least bit sorry. "So? What are you doin' New Years?"

She chewed her lip, twining the phone cord around her finger as she took a seat on the arm of her couch. "I'm not sure. I'll probably be busy," she lied.

"Go out with me."

She closed her eyes and sighed softly. "Noah, you know I can't…"

"Fine," he dismissed, "so just be in the same place as me at the same time."

She frowned uncertainly. "Why? Where?"

"There's an open mic bar just on the outskirts of Van Wert, place called Benny's… The name out front is Watering Hole, but everybody just calls it Benny's. It's like a forty minute drive out… Nobody'll know you there."

She chewed her lip, casting her eyes away. It was risky. Just because he _said _nobody from Lima would be there didn't mean it was for sure. It wasn't that far away and certainly people made out-of-town plans for New Years. But the idea was so appealing… A place where being with Noah, as wrong as it might be, could be right. "And you'll be there on New Years Eve…?"

"Yeah. And so will you."

She shook her head and closed her eyes tight. "I shouldn't."

"You get my gifts?" he asked.

"Yes, I… They were very thoughtful." Hey eyes opened, gaze landing on his card pinned to her fridge, held there by a magnet. It made her smile every time she looked at it. "But you shouldn't have spent any money on me."

"I saved up. It's cool. I got some cash put away for when I graduate."

"When you get out of Lima, you mean…"

"Yeah. Six more months and I'm free, baby."

She smiled faintly. "The world won't know what to do with you."

He laughed deeply and she pressed a hand to her chest when her heart skipped in reply.

"Be at Benny's, Rachel."

It was all he said before he hung up.

She started looking for an outfit even while she talked herself out of it.


	3. Part III

**III.**

When Rachel arrived at Benny's that Saturday night, she immediately felt out of place. Nearly everybody else was in jeans and plaid. She was wearing a skin tight red dress and four inch black heels, which hadn't mixed well with the snow and ice in the parking lot. There were shiny, colorful banners hung on the walls and strung from the ceiling, exclaiming _Happy New Years _and _Welcome to 2012! _A few people were wearing awful 2012 glasses and tiaras and beaded necklaces; in the corner were a group of people blowing celebratory horns even though it was hours away.

Her eyes darted to and fro and she very carefully maneuvered through the crowd, trying her best not to attract attention. It wasn't working seeing as mostly everyone was staring at her and her out of place attire. She cleared her throat and waved awkwardly.

A familiar laugh caught her attention and she turned to find Puck leaning against the bar.

"You came," he said, though he didn't sound surprised.

His eyes ran over her with an eager, hungry look. He licked his lips and flicked the toothpick hanging out the side of his mouth with his tongue.

She squeezed her thighs tight and walked toward him. "I don't know how long I can stay," she told him, before leaning over and asking the bartender for a diet coke.

He turned to her, his arm brushing hers, and she felt the distinct warmth of his body all down her side. He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. "We could walk outta here right now and nobody would care… I could kiss you in front of all these people and they wouldn't think it was wrong… They'd just think you were my girl…" He tucked her hair behind her ear, finger lingering to trace the shell. "'Cause you are my girl, aren't you?"

She leaned into his touch, eyes falling to half-mass. The glass in front of her was sweating; she wrapped her hand around it to take some of the cold chill into her body. She felt too warm; her skin nearly on fire.

His hot breath skittered against her ear. "Say you're mine…"

She looked up at him, the sharp angles of his face stood out more in the low lighting of the bar.

He circled around her, arms braced on either side, and he dropped his chin to her shoulder, his nose lightly nuzzling her neck.

She arched herself back into the length of his body and relished the feeling of his legs pressed up against the backs of her thighs.

"Say you want me…"

She leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Noah…"

His arm slid around her waist, hand splayed against her stomach. She could feel the heat of it branding her through her thin dress. "You get all dolled up for me, Rachel?"

She shook her head faintly. "New Years… I… There's a party, later…"

He chuckled lowly, lips ghosting against her skin. "Got an escape plan? Sneak out the back when I'm too much? When I'm too honest?"

Her breath hitched as his hand slid up higher, thumb rubbing over her ribs.

Her hand shook against her glass and she finally planted them down on the bar, looking for stability as her knees trembled.

"You told Adams to fuck off… You came looking for me when I left you alone… You got all dressed up to come see, some forty minutes away from home…" He pressed into her and dragged his teeth over the tendon in her neck. "You still wanna tell me you don't want me too?"

Her hand covered his right before it cupped her breast and his fingers twined with hers.

"I…" She swallowed tightly. "Just because I want you doesn't mean I should be with you." She shook her head, searching for clarity through a fog of desire. "It isn't right."

He reached up and brushed her hair back and out of the way, she could feel the soft strands sift over her skin, before he nuzzled the nape of her neck and breathed her in. "It could be really right if you'd let it." He let her go and stepped back, leaning on the bar again, elbows resting on either side of him, looking completely relaxed while she felt wound up and hot and overwhelmingly disappointed to not have him holding her.

She looked over at him, flustered and unsure. "Noah?"

"We're up next," he told her, reaching over and scooping up her coke before downing most of it in a few thick gulps. "You gonna stick around or you need to get back to that _party _waitin' on you?"

She licked her lips and darted her eyes to the open mic at the front. "We?" she asked, brows lifted.

"Yeah… You're gonna sing with me."

She knotted her hands together, panic making her tremble. "I… I haven't sung for a very long time. I—I'm probably not even that good anymore."

He raised a brow. "You're good at everything," he told her, and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it lightly.

She stared at him, brows furrowed. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Go from being this overwhelmingly…" She glanced away. "Sexual and passionate person to—to being so supportive and understanding. It—It's like a switch. You tease me into a frenzy one second and then you say something so—so _sweet_the next. I…" She huffed with puzzled irritation. "I never know what to expect with you… I feel like as much as I think I understand you, I'm only just scratching the surface."

He gazed back at her, head cocked. "Sometimes you need me to be passionate… You need me to remind you you're a woman and you wanna be touched, you wanna be held… And sometimes you just need me to remind you that you're good enough. That you're talented too… That you're better than a desk job and living some safe, easy life…" He turned to her, shaking his head. "Rachel, you _want _more, you just won't let yourself have it… Not in your work or with me."

"How do you _know?_" she wondered, brows furrowed. "When even _I_ couldn't figure it out…"

"When you talk about me getting out of Lima, you're excited _and _you're sad… Like you want me to get out, but you wish you hadn't lost your chance…" He shrugged. "But you still got a chance." He stared at her seriously. "You're twenty-one, you got your whole damn life ahead of you… You could quit tomorrow and go wherever you want and just, start over, be who you wanna be… Love who you wanna love."

She offered him a disenchanted smile. "It's not that easy, Noah."

"It _is_." He reached out and curled his finger beneath her chin, lifting it. "All you gotta do is take your chance…"

She stared at him, feeling his words like a spark of hope, lighting something deep down in her heart. Her eyes skittered down to his inviting lips and she remembered that he wasn't going to kiss her, he wasn't going to chase her; the ball was in her court, so they say.

"Just like that?"

"Exactly like that."

She leaned into him, one of her hands resting on his shoulder, and she tilted her head up, her eyes catching his. She could feel his breath leave him quickly, warm against her mouth. His eyes moved from hers to her lips and back, waiting, hoping.

"Noah and Rachel, c'mon up!" called a voice over the mic.

Startled, Rachel turned her head to see a man up on the front stage, long dark hair in a pony-tail and square glasses that he squinted through, searching the crowd.

"Is there a Noah and Rachel out there? Come on, guys… Last chance or we hand the spot over to someone else…"

She bit her lip and then turned her eyes to him. A chance, right there in front of her, she thought.

"We're here," she said, loud enough to catch the man's attention. "We'll sing."

Puck half-smiled at her, before his hand slid around to the small of her back and he ushered her toward the stage. He grabbed his guitar, leaning against the bar, and kept close behind her. She climbed the stairs and stood awkwardly beneath the lights, staring out at the waiting crowd with some trepidation.

Puck took his guitar out and hooked it over his neck before moving over to stand next to her.

"We got this," he promised.

"You've never heard me sing," she reminded.

He grinned. "They start throwing shit, you might wanna ditch the heels… Too hard to run in."

She frowned at him.

With a light shrug, he asked her if she knew a particular duet and while she hesitated to agree, she eventually nodded.

He started strumming his guitar in the familiar tune and she nodded her head along to it, counting the beats silently.

As he leaned in, not the least bit uncomfortable with the crowd, she watched his lips lightly brush the microphone and his voice, deeper than she'd ever heard it, filled the entire room. Sound stopped, or perhaps it was just natural for her to feel as if everything but him had faded away.

_I'm gonna wear you down…  
>I'm gonna make you see…<br>I'm gonna get to you,  
>You're gonna give in to me…<em>

He turned his head and looked up at her and she felt his promise right down to the tips of her toes.

Swallowing tightly, she dropped her eyes to watch his fingers glide over the strings.

I'm gonna start a fire…  
>You're gonna feel the heat…<br>I'm gonna burn for you…  
>You're gonna melt for me…<p>

She suppressed a shiver that ran fluidly down her back, making her skin prickle and her heart race.

She raised her eyes to his and leaned in to add her voice to the mix, his arm lightly brushed against hers.

_Come on, come on…  
>Into my arms,<br>Come on, come on…  
>Give in to me…<em>

As he leaned back, she closed her eyes and let her voice rise up from somewhere deep inside her. Somewhere often forgotten; somewhere ignored and unappreciated. She let free the voice she'd once thought could move others to tears.

_You're gonna take my hand…  
>Whisper the sweetest words…<em>

She brought her hands up to her heart and rocked her hips along with the beat, tipping her head to the side, hair gliding over her shoulders.

_And if you're ever sad,  
>I'll make you laugh,<br>I'll chase the hurt_…

When she looked back at him, he was grinning, knowingly, proudly, and she answered with a smile of her own.

Their voices harmonized once more, and she had to admit, they did sound good together.

_My heart is set on you…  
>I don't want no one else…<br>And if you don't want me,  
>I guess I'll be all by myself…<em>

For a moment, she simply forgot about everybody else and watched his lips as they moved along with hers.

_Come on, come on…_  
><em>Into my arms,<em>  
><em>Come on, come on…<em>  
><em>Give in to me…<em>

She took a step toward him and felt her heart lurch as she sang to him, as her hand touched his arm, fingers spread along his tensed bicep.

His eyes met hers, brow knotted.

_I'll use my eyes to draw you in,  
>Until I'm under your skin…<em>

His gaze fell to her mouth, tongue dabbing at his own lips.

_I'll use my lips,  
>I'll use my arms,<em>

She shook her head emotionally, her fingers gripping the sleeve of his shirt tightly, and her eyes closed.

_Come on, come on, come on  
>Give into me…<em>

When she met his eyes again, they sang softly along with the last few strums of his guitar.

_Give into me…_  
><em>Give into me…<em>

As the clapping reached her ears, she turned back to see the bar patrons were on their feet, hooting and hollering, whistling and clapping. She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ears nervously. She felt wonderful; powerful; _free_. Noah tucked his guitar behind him and wrapped an arm around her waist, giving her a squeeze.

"What'd I tell you?" he asked, ducking his head down so she could hear him.

She looked up at him and, with a heavy heart beating loud in her chest, replied, "_Thank you_."

He nodded, half-smiling.

And when the crowd demanded an encore, he just laughed, letting her go and drawing his guitar back in front of him. "You heard 'em, B…"

Excitedly, she offered up another modern duet and he didn't so much as hesitate.

They sang the night away; old, new, country, rock, even Babs and Diamond.

And when she needed a drink to soothe her throat and she was sure somebody else wanted a chance, they went back to the bar and spent an hour at a table, just talking.

He played with her fingers on the table top and she stopped searching the room nervously for people who wouldn't approve. Instead she focused on how his rough fingertips felt against her skin.

"So your reputation…" she said, letting it trail off, her brow raised curiously. She stared down into her drink because she wasn't sure she wanted to see his face.

"With women," he said knowingly.

She glanced at him. "Multiple," she said. "And from what I've heard, _actual _women. Not… Not girls your age…" She shook her head, hair falling into her eyes.

Before she could reach for it, he had, brushing it away from where it was caught on her lashes, tracing her cheek with his thumb.

"I get around," he admitted. And then, with a frown, corrected himself, "I _got _around."

Her lips pursed, unsure, skeptical. Her heart was pounding and this time, it wasn't in a good way.

"Look, I'm not gonna lie and say I wasn't the guy who got with anything that moved." He shrugged. "I did… Girls my age, chicks in college, a whole lot of cougars…"

Her nose wrinkled.

"It wasn't always something I tried for. It just… came easy to me." He half-smiled. "They liked the bag-boy image and I loved women… Loved being wanted." He tapped his finger against the table and caught her eyes. "But it's not the same with you, Rachel…"

She scoffed slightly, casting her eyes away. "Then why do I feel like that was a very generic line?"

He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "I've had three girlfriends since I was sixteen," he told her. "Santana likes girls now and dumped me 'cause my credit score sucked. Quinn I stole from best friend and dumped me not long after we had to give up our baby up for adoption. And Lauren I tried really damn hard with, but she still dumped me 'cause she thought me and glee club were bringin' down her rep." He shrugged. "Look, I slept with a lotta girls, but the last three relationships I had weren't exactly ego boosters…" He shook his head. "I don't date 'cause I'm pretty sure I suck at it… But also 'cause every time I try to be with someone, they kick me to the curb…" He stared at her searchingly. "So sleeping around worked for me. I was _good_ at it." He licked his lips. "But I want things to be different with you…" He stared up at her from beneath the heavy line of his brows. "My past with girls is for shit, but I didn't spend four months doing everything I could to get them to gimme a chance… And I'm not spending New Years Eve chasing tail…" He half-smiled. "I'm with _you_ and I wanna be here… I want this, _us_, to be different."

When her heart skittered that time, it was for the right reason.

"How do you know it's different?"

"'Cause I wanna _know _you… I—I wanna know about your life and your family and just, whatever's goin' on in that crazy head of yours…" He grinned.

She smiled. "Then ask me something. _Anything_…"

"What's your favorite song?" he wondered.

Her eyes lit up.

He listened intently as she spoke, about her favorite songs, favorite films, favorite books. Excitedly, she asked him for the same in return. And those women that had once been in his life, whether they were brief liaisons or long-term relationships, became less and less important. Partly because, as he spoke, she felt as though she were the first person learning those things about him. Like he'd never been asked what his favorite book was, or why, never had to explain it. And she was both happy and saddened by that. All those people, in and out of his life, taking what they want and giving little in return. Had nobody cared to ask? To wonder? In the end, she decided it must have been a two-way street. Because the man in front of her was eager to know about her; eager to learn about her childhood and her parents and her likes and dislikes. So if those women hadn't asked, perhaps neither had he. Maybe, before her, he simply _hadn't _cared.

It was ten minutes to midnight when she told him, "I have a Hanukkah present for you in my car."

He raised a brow, lips twitching.

She rolled her eyes. "No, I mean a _real _present." She laughed lightly. "Would you like to know what it is?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I was kinda hoping it was you losing the dress in the backseat."

Biting her lip, she shook her head, even as a flush of excitement warmed her skin. "I'm sure you were…"

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well, it's nothing compared to the _eight _fantastic gifts you got me, but…" She shrugged. "It's sheet music." She squeezed his hand. "I've heard you sing, Noah." She glanced at the stage. "I've sung _with _you. And you're _so _talented…" She stared at him searchingly. "I really hope you'll follow that somewhere."

Licking his lips, he nodded, staring down at her hand in his. "My dad used to play too… Ma always said he chased that dream right out of our family and into a whole new level of dead-bead dad syndrome." He shook his head, scrubbing his fingers through his 'hawk. "He never got anywhere with it… And a little bit of me is always scared I'm gonna be just like him…"

She shook her head, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "Noah, you gave up your daughter so she would have a better life. And this, wanting to be better, wanting to get out of Lima and explore your talents…" She smiled gently. "That's nothing short of admirable."

Brows furrowed, he nodded, still staring hard at the table. "And if I fuck it up?"

"Then you try again." She lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. "You've got your whole life to make mistakes and fix them. To chase your dreams and catch them… Why give up early?"

"You tell me." He met her eyes. "Why'd you?"

She leaned back, but he held tight to her hand.

"Your _voice_…?" He shook his head, eyes wide with sincerity. "I've never heard anything so amazing…" His brows furrowed. "Why'd you give up on it?"

She swallowed tightly. "My…" She clenched her teeth as a well of emotion bit at her throat. "My birth mother was a struggling singer…" She shook her head. "She didn't want to meet me. She thought, I don't know, maybe it would be too difficult or… Or maybe she just didn't _want_ me. I was just a—a means to an end; a step toward reaching her ultimate goal of stardom. I know my dads paid her heftily for her services, that nothing more was expected of her, but…" She bit her lip. "What I know is that I look a lot like her and I—I _sound _like her. And when I was growing up, I just, I thought that if she didn't want me then I didn't want her, I didn't want to be anything like her." She lifted her chin and licked her lips. "So I chose a smart path. I focused on my studies and I told myself that I would do the responsible thing. And singing… Relying on my one talent. It—It didn't seem like the smart thing to do for me." She raised her eyes to meet his. "And I don't know if that was right. But I do know that your voice will take you somewhere, even if it's just out of Lima. What matters is that you explore it and you let yourself be swept away in those dreams and those ambitions. Because I can tell you that not doing it, not reaching for it…? It only brings disappointment."

"_Ten_—"

"_Nine_—"

"So what if you took it now?" he wondered. When she went to argue, he shook his head. "What if you came with me?"

"_Six_—"

"_Five_—"

"Noah, you don't know what you're asking…"

"I do." He nodded, staring at her meaningfully. "Come with me, Rachel."

"_Two_—"

"_One_—"

"_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_"

Confetti was tossed and horns were blown, cheering and laughing, hooting and hollering filled the room so loud she could hardly hear herself think.

So she didn't.

Instead, she leaned in and she kissed him.

She took her chance.

It was even better than she remembered.

She found herself drawn into his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, her mouth slanting back and forth against warm, firm lips. Their noses bumped, nuzzled. His teeth grazed, nipped, her lips, her tongue. And his fingers danced over her neck, stroked through her hair, slid down her back, traced the line of the zipper on her dress.

She spent the first ten minutes of 2012 in Noah Puckerman's arms and she didn't, couldn't, _wouldn't_ regret it.

.o.

He twirled her in the parking lot and she laughed, the sound echoing out around them. Spinning, she tossed her head back to watch the snowflakes fall, landing on her hair and her lashes.

She stuck her tongue out to catch them and he just watched, a grin tugging at his mouth.

She was beautiful and happy and he didn't want it to go away. But he knew, as soon as they were back in Lima, she would tell him they couldn't be together. They were wrong. People wouldn't like it.

Puck couldn't remember a time when he ever really cared what other people thought. Yeah, he liked being a badass; he liked striking fear in the kids at school. And when he didn't have his popularity, he felt it, and he didn't like it. But he couldn't think of one time he ever felt bad about who he was or what he'd done. He had regrets, sure. Knocking up his best friend's girlfriend, even if he couldn't regret Beth entirely. Stealing that ATM last year. Juvie. Making his ma look at him like she did; like he was just like his dad.

But his personality, who he was, he never regretted that. He liked himself. He liked that he went for what he wanted, whether it was a cougar or a girl at school. Or the secretary that he never thought he'd want this much. This _badly_. And it wasn't just one of those moments, one of those times where he wanted something only until he got it. 'Cause he wanted to see where this could go. He wanted to know what it'd be like to wake up and turn over and find her there, beside him. He wanted to show her off, to his friends and his ma, like that one thing he did right. It wasn't school or graduating. It was getting this amazing woman to give him the time of day.

She stumbled on her feet, breathing heavy, and reached out to take his hand, spinning herself back into him, body pressed up tight to his, hair littered with little white, melting snowflakes. She grinned up at him widely.

"This was the best New Year's of my life," she told him breathlessly, eyes big and wide and sincere.

He slipped his arms around her waist and leaned in until the tips of their noses touched. "It could always be like this, y'know… I could walk outta school tomorrow… We could jump in my truck and just, hit the road…" He stared at her searchingly. "Never look back."

"Oh, Noah…" She framed his face with her hands, soft and cold. "That's very tempting."

"So do it," he encouraged, squeezing her.

"It's too soon… You're not thinking of the consequences."

"_What _consequences? So I don't finish high school. Hell, most people didn't think I would anyway." He shrugged. "I don't need a diploma to sing, Rachel…" He slid his hand up her back and rubbed the nape of her neck. "We could do this. Me and you, we could go bar to bar, town to town, city to city, and just… _Sing_. Chase those dreams. _Both_ of us."

She licked her lips and slid her hands around to his neck, lacing her fingers. "And what happens when we run out of money? When we don't have any gas, nowhere to sleep, nothing?"

"We sing for our supper," he said, shrugging. "Or I—I'll sling hash, get enough for us to keep moving…" He shook his head. "It's not always gonna be easy or fun. But it'll be _worth _it."

"It sounds _lovely_, Noah, but—"

"Just, think about it, okay?" He rubbed her back. "You don't have to say anything now… You wanna wait, I can wait…" He half-smiled. "I'm a patient kinda guy."

She laughed. "Is that what you've been? Because I thought it was stubborn and persistent."

He shrugged. "That too."

Smiling, she nodded. "Fine. I'll think about it." She raised her eyebrows. "In the meantime, please keep going to school…" She shook her head. "Just because you don't think you'll need it, doesn't mean it won't benefit you…"

He pursed his lips. "Sure."

She kissed him briefly. "We have to go back."

He shook his head slightly and caught her lips again. "In a minute…"

They spent twenty in the freezing cold before he finally let her get in her car.

He watched her drive away before hopping in his truck and heading back to Lima.

He could still feel her on his lips.

.o.

She called him Sunday.

His brows furrowed as he answered. "How'd you get my number?"

She laughed. "I have my ways…"

He rolled his eyes knowingly. "You looked me up at school, didn't you?"

"Well I wasn't nearly as _badass _as you were, breaking and entering as you did, but I might have, possibly, looked up your phone number previously… And happened to remember it."

He snorted, leaning back in his desk chair. "Knew you wanted me…"

She scoffed. "If you'd been late anymore than you were, I was going to have to call your mother in to discuss a suspension with Principal Figgins."

"Yeah, sure, _that's _why you memorized my number."

"If you're quite done implying that I was _lusting _after you, I was going to see what you were doing today…"

He sat up quickly. "Seriously?"

"Well… Yes," she said, sounding suddenly nervous. "I'm not sure we'll be able to spend much time out in public, but—"

"You wanna get cozy somewhere out of sight?" He smirked. "I'm down."

She chuckled lightly. "Would you like to come over and… watch a movie, Noah?"

He grinned, ducking his head and scrubbing his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. That'd be cool."

"Wonderful."

Address in hand, Puck grabbed up his coat and quickly dragged on his shoes, not even bothering to tie them up. He gave his ma a kiss on the cheek when she asked him where he was going and told her he'd see her later. He swore it felt like he'd hit every red light on the way, but eventually he was standing outside her apartment, buzzing her place.

They legit spent the first day of January watching movies and kissing on her couch. And when she fell asleep in his arms, face nuzzled into his chest, fingers gripping his sweater lightly, he just rested his chin on her hair and smiled to himself. Maybe this one time, his hopes wouldn't end up kicking him in the ass.

.o.

When school started back up, they had to be more careful. He wasn't late to class and he didn't show up in her office for break or lunch. But as soon as glee let out or football practice was over and he didn't have a shift at Hummel Tires or he had a few minutes before he had to race home and watch the brat, he stopped in at her apartment and they made good use of the couch. She wouldn't sleep with him and once or twice he heard her mutter, "No going back," so he figured she wasn't completely sold on them yet. But he was breaking down her defenses.

"Are these your dads?" he wondered, standing at the mantel where a picture of two men with their arms around each other were grinning back. One was white with distinguished silver hair and black square glasses, the other black, with curly dark hair and an imperiously quirked brow. They were both wearing bright, bright colors and he swore he saw Rachel's smile in both of them.

"Yes!" She paused next to him, glancing from him to the picture. "This one's Leroy, and this one's Hiram," she said, pointing to each. "They're wonderful."

He nodded. "They know you wanted to be a singer?"

"Mm-hm. When I was growing up, before I know anything about Shelby, I was very interested in the arts… And I was absolutely _sure_ that I was going to be a famous singer or actress…" She smiled softly. "My dads told me they would support me in anything." She laughed slightly. "They even signed me up for dancing lessons…" She waved a finger and suddenly hurried away. When she came back, she was holding a picture of herself, much younger, in a bright red tutu, ringed with gold sequins. She had one hand on her hip and the other behind her head as she made some kind of dramatic dance move. "I was a little… _eager_."

He laughed, raising a brow at the picture. "You were cute." He leaned the picture up on the mantel next to her dads. "Still are."

She blushed, cleared her throat, and turned on her heel. "Thank you." She paused next to her couch and fluffed her pillows for a distraction.

He grinned to himself. Even after all this time, she still got nervous around him; flustered by his attention. "So Mr. Shue asked me if I wanted to take a solo for Regionals next month."

She looked over at him, eyes wide and excited. "Really?" She clapped her hands together. "Noah, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah." He shrugged, even though inside he was pretty proud of himself. "So, uh… I was thinkin', y'know… Maybe you could help with my song."

Her brows hiked. "I'd love to sing with you again." She nodded, taking a seat on her couch. "Is there anything in particular you were thinking about?"

"Actually…" He turned his bag over from his shoulder and dug out the sheet paper she'd given him, marked _Composed by: Noah Puckerman _at the top. "I was thinking I might write one myself…" He circled the table to sit down next to her. "And since you're so good with words… Maybe we could write it together."

Her eyes widened and she stared at him, mouth slightly ajar.

With a grin, he signed beneath his own name, _& Rachel Berry_.

The tears in her eyes said she was touched; the half hour she spent making out with him sans both their shirts said he was making some serious progress.

.o.

She started putting money away; it was just a little bit, here or there. She tucked it away in an unmarked jar she kept on a shelf.

She told herself she was saving it for a rainy day, for unexpected expenses in the future, like how her car had broken down suddenly. If it hadn't been for Noah, she was sure she'd be in-debt with Hummel Tires.

Sometimes, however, she let the pretenses fall away and she would admit to herself that it was really for long weeks on the road, in-between gigs, helping them scrape by until they hit it big.

On a whim, she taped a piece of paper to the jar and marked it, _Dreams_. To remind herself, even when she was holding denial too close, that she still had them, and they weren't so out of reach.

.o.

"Puck?" Mr. Shuester asked as he was packing up his things, eyes darting to the clock quickly.

"Uh, yeah?"

"I was hoping I could talk to you about your solo. See how your song was coming, if you needed any help…"

"Nah, no, I got it handled…" He started backing up toward the door. "Listen, I gotta go, gotta watch my sister and… stuff…"

"Oh, that's fine. Just… Let me know if you need any help, all right?"

He saluted him and turned on his heel to leave the room.

Finn caught up to him halfway across the parking lot. "Hey man, listen, uh… I heard you and Mr. Shue talking…"

"Yeah, and?" He raised an impatient brow.

"Well, it's Tuesday…" His face screwed up in confusion. "Doesn't your sister have dance lessons today? It worked out 'cause you have glee, so you don't have to worry about picking her up… Your mom does on her way back from work."

Puck frowned. "What're you, Sherlock Holmes now?"

"What? No. I just… I..." He sighed, glancing away. "I guess I just wanted to see what was up… You're not in the office every day anymore, thought maybe…" He shrugged, half-smiling. "You finally hooked up with the secretary or…?"

He looked away. "No. She wasn't goin' for it. I moved on."

Finn stared at him a long second. "All right… You say so."

"I do." Reaching his truck, he yanked open the door, casting a frown back at him as he walked toward his own truck. "Hey, you're not pissed I got the solo, right?"

He shook his head, shrugging. "It's cool… You've been workin' your ass off for this… Didn't even think you liked glee that much."

Puck nodded. "Later."

As he climbed into his truck and took off out of the parking lot, he thought it over. He was working pretty hard. In fact, he'd been doing better in school all senior year. And glee, singing and music and all that, it really did matter to him. Ever since he really considered how it might get him out of Lima, he started taking it more seriously. Started considering it his one big opportunity. And this song he was writing, it was gonna be big. It was gonna show them all what he was made of; that he was better than Lima, better than his father, better than they ever expected.

.o.

"Tell me about your dad?" she asked.

They were lying on her bed, their legs tangled, her head on his shoulder, and she was playing with a button on his shirt.

"Not much to say," he replied, glancing down, at the shiny, dark hair that'd gotten tangled while they were rolling around.

She turned her head, chin perched on him, and stared up at him a long moment. "How old were you when he left?"

He shrugged, lips pursed. "I dunno…" His brows furrowed. "Young…" He reached out and traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. "Younger than Becca is now… Ma was still pregnant with her when he walked out." He sucked his teeth, glaring at some far off spot in her bedroom.

"Becca's eleven," she said, a note of concern in her voice. Her brows furrowed. "Noah, you would've only been six… _seven_at best."

"Yeah." He laughed humorlessly. "Think I had a baseball game that day…" He nodded. "He was supposed to be there. And he didn't—I mean, he didn't _always _show up, y'know? But I always _hoped _he would…" He shook his head, his jaw ticking. "Like I always checked the bleachers, the other dads, lookin' for his face in the crowd…" He licked his lips. "Wasn't there though. Wasn't really surprised…" He shrugged. "So when the game was over… We won," he added dismissively, "I rode my bike home, left it in the front yard like my ma always bitched at me not to do… And I was—" He swallowed tightly. "I was halfway up the porch stairs and he walked out, duffel bag over his shoulder, guitar case in his hand…"

Her hand rubbed over his chest, his heart, in slow, soothing circles.

"He didn't stop… Walked right past me, threw his stuff in his car… And then he looked back at me and he said, 'Don't waste your life like I did, kid.'" He ground his teeth. "Last words of _wisdom_ because he just drove off and never looked back…" He covered her hand on his chest and played with her fingers. "My ma never cried over him… Not any time I could hear, anyway. Acted like it was no big deal, we didn't need him, we'd be fine…" He nodded. "And we were. Kinda."

She threaded their fingers and wondered, "Do you ever miss him?"

"Yeah, sure… The guy who actually showed up to my games, taught me to play guitar, gave me my first football…" He nodded. "I miss _that_ guy."

"I bet he misses you too," she murmured.

He looked at her, hating that his eyes were burning, wet. "Yeah?" he rasped.

"He would be a _fool _not to," she said fiercely, staring searchingly into his eyes.

"S'okay," he muttered, stroking her hair back from her face. "His loss, right?"

"Absolutely," she agreed. She crawled up the bed and kissed him, slow and deep. He buried his hand in her hair, cradled the nape of her neck and kept her close. A few lingering, sipping kisses later and she laid down half on top of him again.

He had another hour before he had to be home, so he spent it just holding her.

.o.

The first time he slept over, he was confused when he woke up. He raised his head up, one eye still closed, and looked around for some kind of cue to where he was. Then he spotted her and relaxed.

She had the softest pillows like, _ever_. And her bed was just _huge_. He didn't even know what she needed a bed that big for since she was legit _tiny_. But it made for a good time all the same.

It was the first time he'd ever stayed the night at a chick's place and didn't have to worry about a dad or a son or a boyfriend showing up. It was also the first time he'd stayed over and not gotten laid the night before. Rachel was still putting the brakes on that and honestly, it didn't bug him as much as he might've thought. Especially since waking up with her was even better than he'd thought it would be. It was early Saturday morning and she was actually sleeping in. She had a crazy work-out schedule she usually followed, but they'd been up late. They had their own little movie night, equipped with take-out and junk food, and went back and forth between the shoot 'em up movies he liked and the classic musicals she loved.

Her hair was a tangled mess and she was snoring lightly; she had her hands flattened beneath her head and she kept muttering about something he couldn't quite make out. She was cute, wearing nothing more than a flimsy yellow camisole and panties.

The sun was coming in through the window and it was long before noon, so instead of getting up or waking her up, he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her over into him. She sighed softly and nuzzled her face against his chest, murmuring _Noah_. He was smiling as he fell back asleep.

Later, when they both managed to get out of bed, she taught him how to make vegan waffles.

His favorite part was licking syrup off her skin.

.o.

Puck was surprised to find his ma at home. Last he heard, she had a late shift and she needed him to watch Becca. "Hey…?" he said, walking into the kitchen to find her at the stove.

She grinned up at him. "You're home."

He nodded. "Yeah, uh, you said you needed me to watch Becks…" He looked around in confusion. "Thought you had work."

She shrugged, leaning her hip against the counter. "I called in sick."

He raised a brow at her. That wasn't like her, which meant something serious had to be up.

With a sigh, she explained, "You're never home anymore unless you have to be…" She nodded her chin at the table. "Get that set."

He rolled his eyes at the demand but started grabbing out everything while she talked.

"You've been working for Burt," she said, her question obvious.

"Yeah… He's cool. It's just a couple shifts here or there…" He dropped a fork and knife at all three seats at the table. "Why? You need some money?"

She shook her head. "No. I just… It's nice… To see you working."

He glanced back at her, brows furrowed. "I worked at Sheets N' Things last year."

"Yes." She scoffed. "And you _hated_ it."

"Boring," he muttered.

She crossed her arms over her chest loosely. "But you like working at Hummel Tires?"

He nodded, pouring his sister a glass of juice.

"And you're still in glee? On the football team?"

"Yeah, ma… Why?" He looked over at her wonderingly. "You hear something?"

"No, no…" She put her hands on her hips and drummed her fingers. She waited a minute before finally just asking, "You gotta girlfriend or something?"

He froze, eyes darting down to the table. "Why?"

"Noah," she said, amusement lacing her voice. "Like I said, you're never home, you got this job for a little extra money, you're going to school, putting in a real _effort_…" She shook her head. "Whattya want me to think? You're shapin' up… I—I'm proud of you."

He stared at her, his eyes wide.

"So…" She waved an oven mitt at the stove. "I made your favorite… To show you I noticed."

His eyebrows hiked. "Seriously?"

She half-smiled. "Look, I know I'm busy… But you're my boy and maybe I'm not around enough to say it, but you've really grown up… I dunno what it is about your senior year, bubbala, but you've got your head on straight… It's just nice to see."

He grinned, scrubbing a hand over his 'hawk.

"So…" She raised a brow. "When am I gonna meet this girl in your life?"

"_Ma_…" he whined.

With a laugh, she nodded. "Fine. Keep your secrets." She waved a finger at him. "But I'll meet her eventually, you mark my words."

He rolled his eyes and, before she could grill him anymore, shouted at his sister to come down for dinner.

Much as he appreciated that his ma was noticing how different he was lately, he wasn't so sure she wouldn't take back her brisket when she realized he was dating his school's secretary.

.o.

Her bra was shoved down to her ribs, his hand covering one of her perky, little tits, their mouths slanting together and their hips rocking and meeting when he suddenly remembered.

"Oh shit," he cursed, tripping as he jumped off her bed.

Sitting up on her bed, she blinked in confusion. "What?" Her brows furrowed. "Did I bite you again?"

He snorted. "Yeah, but I _like _that…" He shrugged, readjusting himself in his jeans.

She rolled her eyes and tugged her bra back into place. "Noah!"

"The hell's my shirt?" he wondered, searching in circles around his feet, kicking colorful pillows out of his way. "'N why do you have so many pillows for your bed?"

She shrugged. "Because they're pretty… And they match the bedspread."

"Babe…" He grabbed his t-shirt up from where he found it and tugged it over his head. "You throw 'em all on the floor anyway. And nobody sees these things but me…" He shook his head. "So who are they pretty for?"

She smiled, telling him simply, "_Me_."

He laughed under his breath before he circled her bed and dropped a hand down on either side of her, holding himself up as he leaned in to kiss her. "I gotta go… 'M already late… I picked up a shift with Burt."

She kissed him twice more before raising her brows wonderingly. "Another one?"

He nodded, nipping at her lip. "Valentine's Day next month." He wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed. "Noah, you don't have to get me anything…" She tugged on his shirt. "You should save your money… For when you leave Lima," she reminded.

He nuzzled her nose. "When _we _leave…" Not waiting for her to argue or agree, he leaned back. "'Kay, I gotta head. I'll see you tomorrow." He walked out of her room, backwards. "'Less I get off early and ma's home… Then I'm comin' back…"

She grinned after him. "Fingers crossed."

With a wink, he turned on his heel and left.

Rachel flopped back on her bed and sighed; her lips still tingled.

.o.

"What's this?" he asked, arms wrapping around her waist and chin balancing on her shoulder.

Rachel leaned her head against his. "Dinner," she told him.

"S'vegan?"

"Mmhmm." She stirred it. "Just trust me and give it a chance." She smiled. "If you don't like it, we have BreadstiX on speed dial."

He snorted and squeezed her. "What's the white shit?"

She bit her lip. "Tofu."

"_Seriously?_"

She laughed. "Noah, I promise you, I'm not trying to poison you."

"You say so…" he muttered.

She elbowed him lightly.

"Oof!" he cried dramatically, stumbling away from her.

Giggling, she turned and tipped her head back to see his handsome smirk. Reaching out, she tugged on his shirt. "Next time, _if_ you don't like what I made, you can bring over your dead animals and hide them in the crisper," she told him.

"Deal." He reached for her hips and drew her up close. "How was work today?"

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, tipping her head back as his hand rose up to knead her neck softly. "Coach Sylvester came back _three _separate times to argue with Principal Figgins about the glee club…" She rolled her eyes. "Actually, the third time was to demand that she have a Gatorade fountain put in her office _and _to raise hell about the glee club."

He snorted. "No way."

Her eyes widened. "You know, she's very witty… But in a scary sort of way… It's really quite amazing how many different things she's compared Will's hair to…"

He chuckled. "Sylvester's crazy."

"Oh, _completely_," she agreed. Pursing her lips, she added, "But it's the kind of crazy that is increasingly smart and makes me fear for the lives of others…" She sighed, closing her eyes as his hands rubbed at her neck just right and she felt every muscle in her body turn to jello.

"Babe?"

"Hmm?"

"I think that tofu shit is burning."

Her eyes widened quickly and she turned back to the stove. "Rats!" she cried, grabbing up her spatula.

Luckily, it was salvageable. And while Noah told her he preferred dead animals, he also said it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever had. It was a start.

.o.

Some days, she wondered why she ever said no in the first place. Having him in her life, seeing him after work almost every day, it gave her something to look forward to. It wasn't always perfect, he was a very messy person while she was almost _too _organized, and those worlds collided quite noticeably, but they made it work. And she truly cherished all the time she got to spend with him, even if it was just watching TV and eating popcorn. Or watching him play his guitar and working on his song.

Sometimes, she simply forgot all about the fact that he was younger than her, he went to the school she worked at. It faded away to some unimportant fact about him. One easily dismissed, especially when he was kissing her or singing or playing with her fingers or making heart-shaped hickeys everywhere he could reach.

In all of her life, Rachel couldn't remember ever being quite this happy; this _content _with another person. She'd been in relationships, but they often blew up in her face. She was too needy or critical or she became someone else for that person, someone she didn't really like. But she was herself with Noah, unapologetically. And he was the same with her. Somehow, those two personalities fit and meshed together.

It made her think, made her dream, made her wonder about things she'd never taken the time to wonder about. Could she love this person? This man who, for all intents and purposes, was never supposed to mean this much to her. Did she even really have a _choice?_

.o.

In the beginning of February, they drove back out to Van Wert and stopped in at Benny's. Open mic didn't start for another hour, so Puck dropped a few coins in the juke box. Rachel was sitting at a table, stirring a thin red straw in her glass of diet coke. Her hair was curled, shiny, and draped down her back.

He held a hand out to her. "C'mon…"

She smiled up at him and took his hand.

The dance floor was empty; there weren't many people to begin with. There were a few people playing pool across the room and a few more sitting on stools at the bar. When the mic was open, it'd fill up with hooting, hollering patrons, but for right now, he could hardly head anything outside of the tune come from the juke box.

Rachel had traded in her tight red dress for a flowy black one with little grey birds all over it.

Hand spread over the small of her back, he drew her in so close that their steps were hardly more than swaying. Her head fell to his shoulder and he ducked his, her hair tickling his cheeks, and his lips brushing her ear as he sang along.

_And I'd give up forever to touch you,  
>'Cause I know that you feel me somehow…<br>You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,  
>And I don't want to go home right now…<em>

Her hand squeezed his shoulder and she turned her face to see him, her eyes watching his lips move.

_And all I can taste is this moment…  
>And all I can breathe is your life…<br>And sooner or later it's over…  
>I just don't wanna miss you tonight…<em>

He twirled her around and brought her in so her back was to his chest. He wrapped his arms low on her waist and nuzzled her neck.

Her breath hitched and her eyes fell closed, lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks.

_And I don't want the world to see me…  
>'Cause I don't think that they'd understand…<br>When everything's meant to be broken…  
>I just want you to know who I am…<em>

She slid a hand back around his neck and furled her fingers in the tail of his 'hawk, her other hand covering his at her waist, hips rocking side to side.

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming…  
>Or the moment of truth in your lies…<br>When everything feels like the movies,  
>Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive…<em>

Tipping her chin up, she sang the next chorus, her voice soft, only loud enough for him to hear.

_And I don't want the world to see me…  
>'Cause I don't think that they'd understand…<br>When everything's meant to be broken…  
>I just want you to know who I am…<em>

She turned in his arms and wrapped them back around his neck before drawing him down closer. He hugged her tight and buried his face in her neck.

"Let's go home," she murmured, her lips tickling his ear.

His hand slid up and down her back before he hooked his arm around her waist and they left the bar.

The ride back to Lima felt heavy; she took his hand and held it in her lap the whole way, tracing her fingers around his knuckles.

He was surprised that he felt nervous. He knew what this meant; he'd been wanting it from the beginning. But now that it was happening, now that he was really gonna have her… He swallowed tight and squeezed her fingers.

Forty minutes later, they were at her apartment building. He parked his truck in the visitor's area.

It was still pretty early for a Saturday night; his ma thought he was at Finn's. He figured they'd be at Benny's until closing and it wouldn't be the first time he'd slept over at her place.

She kissed him against her door as it closed behind them, stripping his jacket off him without pausing. She tossed it to the floor and reached for the end of his t-shirt. He leaned her back, meeting each hard, slanting press of her lips as his shirt was thrown away and he grabbed up the bottom of her dress. He didn't bother with the zipper; instead he tugged it up her body and she lifted her arms up to help.

He stared at her a long second, in just her pristine white lace underwear, her chest flushed and heaving, her dark hair spilling down her shoulders. And then he reached down and gripped the backs of her thighs in his palms; he lifted her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers threading in his hair.

She had a nice place; all exposed red brick and bright colors. The couch was old; he remembered she told him it the first thing she bought when she moved to Lima. Found it in a second hand store and loved the color. There was stain on the far right cushion; she spilled chocolate ice cream on it, vegan of course. It never came out so she just covered it with a throw pillow. He didn't even have to look as he walked her into her room; he'd been there so many times he had it memorized. Bookshelf on his left, stocked almost to overflowing. A cabinet full of movies, most of them musicals, on his right. She had all the Die Hards too though, because she loved Bruce Willis and they reminded her of her dads, who were also avid fans of his.

He laid her back on her bed and climbed up between her thighs. Her knees rose up and pressed into his sides. He slid his hands down the smooth skin of her thighs and looked at her dark hair, spread out around her head, her lips, pink and swollen and pinched by her teeth biting into them.

She reached for the front clasp of her bra and snapped it open, shrugging her shoulders and digging it out to toss away.

His eyes fell to her breasts, topped with beaded, dark nipples. He loved her boobs; he loved how they fit in his hand and his mouth and how she moved and breathed when he played with them, with his tongue, his fingers. He loved how she always held his head in close and arched up into his mouth. There was a flush spreading across her skin, reaching across her tits and up her neck. He ducked his head and nuzzled one with his nose before wrapping his lips around the center and sucking it between his teeth.

"Noah!" Her nails dug into his shoulders and she squeezed her legs around his waist.

He couldn't remember ever being called that when he was with a girl. Only her.

She slid her hands down his back, fingers dipping along each rigid muscle, before they flared out over his hips and she hooked her thumbs in his jeans.

He already knew where this was going, but he still wanted to make sure she was certain. She was the one going back and forth on this. The one who kept questioning whether they were right or not. She was the one who might have regrets after; regrets he wasn't sure he could handle.

He leaned up, kissed her chin, and opened his mouth to question it.

She parted his jeans and slid her hand beneath to grip his shaft and words left him.

"I know what I'm doing," she said against his tightly pressed lips. "I want this…" She stared up at him, fingers ghosting down his dick. "I want _you_."

He kissed her on a growl and she shoved his jeans down and out of the way as he did. He shuffled them off, kicking them to the floor and dropping his body down against hers.

"_Oh_." Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. He was hard against her stomach and he knew she could feel all of him. Her breath left her trembling lips. "I… It's been awhile."

"I can go slow."

She swallowed tightly. "I don't want you to."

For a moment there was nothing but their breaths meeting between their mouths, hot and heavy.

She held onto the back of his shoulders as she leaned up to meet his lips, taking his top lip between hers. Before she could get too lost in his kiss, and it wouldn't be the first time, she managed, "Mmph… Drawer… Top…"

He ignored it for a second, more interested in her tongue and her lips. But eventually, he reached past her and dug in the drawer, pulling out the unopened box of condoms there. He waved them at her with a panting smirk. "Prepared for me?"

"Prepared in general," she argued, before reaching for the box and setting on opening it.

He slid down her body and started pressing kisses from between her smooth, soft breasts to the top of her panties.

Her hands shook and it took her longer to tear the box open than it should have; her eyes darting from her task to his mouth, smoothing over her skin, nipping and licking as he went.

When she finally got it open, she took out a handful of condoms and dropped them to the bed next to her. One she took in her teeth to tear open.

He raised a brow at the rest. "Guess you're planning a long night."

She laughed throatily. "Long in coming."

He gripped the sides of her white underwear and slid them down her hips slowly, jerking them down just a few inches at time, his eyes on hers the whole time, watching as she bit down on her lower lip hard. "It'll be worth it," he promised.

And with her bare and her legs spread in front of him, he ducked his head down low and licked a long, teasing strip across her pussy, flicking her clit with the very tip of his tongue.

Her breath caught and she arched her hips, throwing her head back.

He pinned her down by her waist and kept her legs apart with his arms leaned on her thighs. He licked the opening notes to their song along her folds, tongue slipping inside her at random. She came before he'd even slipped his fingers inside her, thrusting slow and deep. She flooded his mouth; she tasted every bit as sweet as he expected.

Her nails scraped through his hair, her head shaking, his name spilling from her mouth like a desperate mantra.

He'd been with a lot of women, probably more than he ever should have, but this was different. This mattered to him.

He kissed her belly button while she came down, her finger stroking the back of his neck, her body still shaking, and her eyes fluttering.

She tugged on his hair and he climbed up her once more, pausing to swipe each of her nipples, quick and sudden.

She dragged her nails down the sides of his head, catching on the short bristles of hair as she went. She stared up at him, breath still leaving her heavily. "Tell me it's right."

"It's right." He dipped his head and kissed her, slowly, lingeringly. "It's right," he promised.

She breathed into his mouth, flicking his lips with her tongue. "I know."

Those words hit him hard in the chest. Even after this month they'd spent together, he'd still been waiting for her to change her mind, to back out. Sure, it'd been the best four weeks of _his _life, but he'd spent eighteen years before that being told everything he did was somehow wrong. He just expected her to do the same. Only she never did. She was always happy to see him, always proud of him, always eager for his touch. She was the first woman he'd ever been with that actually wanted to know him, good and bad. And the bad actually scared him; the bad always made him think there was too much weighed against him; too many reasons she should just cut her losses and walk away from him. But she didn't. And he'd never appreciated that more.

He slid the condom on easily and hiked her leg up on his hips. When he sunk into her, he met her eyes and their lips were just close enough to brush faintly. His brow furrowed; she was so tight and hot and soft all around him and beneath him. She cupped his face, her thumbs rubbing along his cheeks.

Puck wasn't sure he'd ever made love before, until that moment.

He'd fucked and he'd screwed and he'd nailed more women than he could probably count. And even Quinn, who he'd once thought he loved and who he'd had a baby with, he never really _made love _with.

But here, in this moment, with Rachel, he knew the difference.

It wasn't just soft or slow; it wasn't boring like he'd once thought it would be; it wasn't even all gentle.

It was just _connected_.

He had more invested in her than he'd ever had in another woman. He knew more about her, had shared more with her, and he…

He _loved _her.

He loved that he didn't always know what she was talking about; that sometimes he really did have to check out the pocket dictionary he kept on hand to figure out what she was saying, especially when she was upset and ranting. How she asked about his family and genuinely wanted to know about them. How she never failed to tell him that he was talented and he could do anything with his life. He loved that she was _obsessed _with musicals and Broadway; that she could actually recite, word for word, every one of them. He loved how she didn't eat meat but didn't begrudge him steak. That she made her own trail mix and always let him have half of it. And she started bringing real chocolate M&M's just for him and trading them for her vegan chocolate chips. He loved that she believed in him and trusted him and that she didn't judge him for Beth or all of his screw-ups or his pretty lengthy criminal record. He loved that when he sang, she melted, and when she sang, he felt something shift inside him. He loved the way she smiled for him; how she laughed; how she still blushed for him.

He loved that when he moved inside her, she dug her nails in, leaving behind tiny crescent moon shapes. He loved how she breathed his name; how she shouted it; how she panted and pleaded and moaned. He even loved how she turned him over because she liked to be in control sometimes. How she rode him, her hair draped down her back, clinging to her sweaty skin. How she drew his hands up to cup her breasts while she rose up on her knees and rotated her hips, clenching all around him. How she traced his forearms, his biceps, and dragged her nails across his skin. And when she felt him getting closer, she stopped. She sunk down on him and pinned his hands to the bed while she kissed his chest and his shoulders and all along his neck. And when she was sure he could handle it, she started again. Moving and rocking and sliding up and down, flexing and quivering all around him.

She arched up into him when he turned her onto her stomach and knelt behind her, her knees spread wide, biting into the mattress, and her thighs warm and slick. His hands gripped her hips, drawing her back as he slid back into her, hot and clenching all around him. She flipped her hair out of the way and panted into the blanket, biting her lip so hard he was surprised it didn't break open. He slid his hands up her front, cupped her boobs and kneaded, rolling her hard, sensitive nipples between his fingers. His mouth wandered along her back as he pumped into her harder and quicker. His teeth dragged across her shoulder and she squeezed around him like a vice, crying out his name. He slid a hand around and ghosted his finger over her clit, smiling as she jerked, toes curling.

He was physically exhausted and emotionally spent when he had her on her back again, their hands twined together on the pillows. He kissed down her neck as he thrust shallowly, their bodies slick and sliding together easily. And he whispered it against her ear, repeatedly, as he came, his eyes closed tight against the incredible ecstasy. He could feel her shaking all around him as she climaxed too; her knees squeezing his hips.

He didn't move for a long moment, curled up in the warmth of her small body, panting against her skin. Her hands smoothed up and down his back, her heel rubbing along the back of his calf.

"I love you, too," she said, pressing her lips to his cheek.

His four favorite words, ever, hands down.

.o.

They used up her handful of condoms, as well as a few more, by the end of Sunday.

When he finally left her apartment, it wasn't because he wanted to. She kept waylaying him on his way to the door with kisses and the last thing he wanted to do was leave. But his ma was expecting him at home and he had school tomorrow. Walking out to his truck, he'd never grinned so widely and so genuinely in his life.

It just kept repeating in his head. Not the sex, even though that was off the charts awesome, but the words. She loved him too.

He didn't think he'd ever feel any better than in that moment.


	4. Part IV

**IV.**

Noah spent every weekend at her place, telling his mom he was at Finn's and telling everybody else he had something to do at home. Burt only asked him to come in during the week, so they were basically home free.

Rachel was worried at first that having explored a more _intimate _side of their relationship, it might lean too heavily in that direction. While yes, she understood that their relationship was… somewhat forbidden, she didn't want it to be based on sex. When Noah had told her he loved her - and yes, sure, with it being in the throes of passion, she'd suffered some doubts – she realized that those feelings she'd been so careful to deny and disregard had been building up despite her. So it was with complete and honest sincerity that she told him she loved him too. Still, she feared that passion for one another might overcome some of the most basic parts of their relationship.

She was pleasantly surprised to find it didn't.

They still watched movies; her choice was usually one of her many musicals that, while he always moaned at, she had noticed him mouthing along to or tapping his foot along with the tune. And he, of course, always brought over action films that she occasionally still cringed at, but found herself oddly excited over, rooting loudly for the good guy. All the while, they lay cuddled up on her couch, and yes, of course, his hands wandered, but it wasn't always turned into something more. Sometimes, he just liked to rub her hip or draw random shapes on her skin beneath her shirt. Occasionally, when he got bored with the singing, he'd spend awhile working on his hickeys, covering her neck in little hearts and stars and whatever else struck his fancy.

He still visited during the week, when he wasn't busy beneath the hood of a car at the shop or watching Becca for his mom. In fact, the nights they didn't share dinner were rare and often made her feel rather lonely. She had a stack of take-out menus in her spare drawer that they would randomly pick from and order out. And she taught him a few vegan recipes too, more because he asked than because she trusted his cooking. Sometimes, he picked up something for himself and they cooked their separate meals together. His meat wasn't allowed to touch her tofu, but she'd designated the crisper his for all dead animal products. And they would sit in her kitchen, her wearing one of his t-shirts, _only_ his t-shirt, because it smelled like him and she felt oddly feminine in them, and him in his low-slung, worn, blue jeans and a pair of socks to keep the chill out from the hardwood floors. And like every time, she would talk him into tasting what she'd made that night for dinner, which was obviously more healthy than whatever he'd put together, and he would be honest, whether it sucked in his opinion or not.

He pushed the plate away from her and then turned wide eyes in her direction, his brows hiked. "No, seriously, babe, I really don't think you should eat that… Like, I think it went bad."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Noah…" Honestly, sometimes he was so dramatic…

"Okay." He held his hands up. "But it legit tasted like something crawled inside it and died… 'M just sayin'…"

Scoffing, she shook her head at him. "What a way with words…"

He smirked, leaning across the table to peck her lips. "Y'know what I also have a way with?"

She giggled softly. "I can guess."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she squealed as he plucked her off her chair and hauled her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" she cried through her laughter, beating her fists against his back entirely too softly to actually hurt.

He raced across her apartment, sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. "I'm savin' you from food poisoning!" he exclaimed.

When he tossed her down on her bed and climbed up next to her, she was pretty sure of what he thought his repayment for his so-called 'good deeds' should be.

And, of course, what knight should go unappreciated?

.o.

Some of her favorite times were when they were just had a guitar and sheet music in front of them and nothing but this invisible thread of understanding and storytelling weaving between them.

Their songs weren't always good. She once had a severe bout of writer's block that resulted in a whole ballad to a particular headband she rather liked that week. He laughed for nearly an hour straight, the same amount of time she pouted and told him he was unprofessional and wouldn't be seeing her outside of her clothes for a very long time.

But then they had these nights where all she heard were his fingers sliding over strings, plucking, picking, testing, always listening, with this expert ear and his eyes narrowed, waiting for that tune to jump out and truly touch something inside him. And then he would have a melody, a stunning compilation of sound that moved her, and they would lie on their stomachs, a pen each, tossing out words and stories, hopes, fears, desires, losses, everything that came to mind. Until they had a song.

Something happy, something sad, something on the brink of some unknown feeling that tore at their guts and repaired them at the same time. And she would stare at their lyrics and the music notes scratched above them, with their names written at the top, and she would feel that all-encompassing hope that they could really do this, they could really be these people, with these dreams of living on love and music swelling up inside her.

And then he would kiss her shoulder, like he always did, like he was saying, without words: _Good job. I love you. I couldn't ask for a better partner. You're _it_, you're_ everything,_ for me._

And she would turn her head and smile at him and hope her eyes returned the sentiment.

.o.

They were going to win Regionals.

Puck knew it.

Sometimes, he read over their song and he just thought, _Yeah. **Fuck **yeah_. Because he was going to go out on that stage and he was going to sing this song that he wrote, that he and Rachel put together all by themselves, and he was going to show the glee club and every stranger in that room that he was talented.

They were going to win.

And he had Rachel, loving her and being with her and writing with her, to thank for it.

.o.

She liked to leave him notes. In the pocket of his jeans, the glove box of his truck, in his Letterman's jacket.

Sometimes they were inspirational quotes.

Sometimes they were just funny things that happened on a show they were watching, hoping to bring a smile to his face.

Most of the time they were things to remind him that she was thinking of him; that she cared.

She couldn't sign them for obvious reasons, but she always left a little star at the bottom.

.o.

"Noah, this is ridiculous!"

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Rach, you're the one wearing a wig and giant sunglasses… at _night_."

She glared at him, or he thought she did; she was wearing freaking _sunglasses_. "Do you have any idea how much trouble we could get into if anybody from the school sees me with you?"

"Your car broke down." He shrugged. "I was just giving you a ride."

"To the _theater?_" She shook her head, mouth ajar. "My car broke down and I thought it made sense to catch a movie?"

He grinned. "I'm really damn persuasive."

She motioned a hand around the cab of his truck, where she sat in _legit _a trench coat and a blonde wig. "_Obviously!_"

He laughed. "Okay, listen… Nobody's gonna notice."

"How? _Why?_" She tipped her head suspiciously. "You didn't call in some kind of bomb threat and empty out the theatre and a three mile radius, did you? Because I was joking… It was a great idea, but it was a joke."

Grinning to himself, he shook his head. "First, it's like… _Monday_. Nobody in high school sees a movie on a _Monday_."

Her nose wrinkled. "Why?"

"Because it's cheaper on Tuesday." He nodded. "Might as well wait one more day."

She lowered her glasses to blink at him disapprovingly. "That is the full basis of your reasoning?"

"No."

She raised a brow as if to say, _Well?_

"We're an hour early." He shrugged. "I paid a guy I know that works at the theater to let us in so we can get our seats before anybody else shows up. It'll be crazy dark by the time everybody else gets there and when the movie's over, we'll sneak out the back." He shrugged. "Plus, you're all incognito, which you're totally pulling off."

She grinned at the compliment but then frowned. "What are we going to do for an hour?"

He smirked lazily at her.

.o.

Noah was right. Nobody paid them any attention. Even the guy he paid to let them in just waved them through dismissively. They spent an hour making out in the back of a dark theatre and Rachel hadn't noticed when people started filing inside. It wasn't until the trailers were flashing in front of her, the noise so loud it couldn't be ignored, that she untangled herself from where she found herself seated in his lap and took her seat once more, wiping at her swollen lips and shifting in her seat, squeezing her thighs together.

But Noah proved distracting even when she was trying to give the movie her full attention. He kept running his finger in a circle atop her knee, over and over, bigger and bigger, until his fingertips were lightly dragging up and down the length of her thigh. She couldn't help how she shivered, how a faint gasp escaped her lips.

She watched Noah's lips quirk in satisfaction before his hand slid ever higher, beneath the cover of her skirt. Her knees parted naturally, instinctively, despite her better judgment. They were in a crowded theatre and she should not be—

She clapped a hand over her mouth as he pressed three fingers against her firmly, rubbing his middle in slow jerking motions before flicking it up to tap her clit through her underwear. She gripped his arm, her nails digging into the curve of his elbow.

He chuckled lowly and slid his fingers over, hooking them and dragging the damp fabric aside. She forced her legs impossibly wider, hating that the seat didn't accommodate her flexibility. As if sensing her frustration, he turned to look at her, smirk riding his lips in a devilishly handsome twist.

Just as quickly as his humor came, it faded however. He watched her face, his eyes growing dark, as his fingers slid slowly over her folds, tracing them, drawing shapes and letters and random, spiraling patterns against her wet, sensitive slit. And he sunk one, two fingers inside as his thumb flicked her clit.

Her eyes closed as a thrum of incredible ecstasy rocked her body forward and then back. So close, so damn close. He thrust slow and shallow, giving her just enough to keep her on edge, rubbing his thumb in circles around, but not near enough to her throbbing, demanding clit.

She was panting, chewing her lip, gripping his arm so tight she thought she might draw blood.

And then he leaned over and he kissed the corner of her mouth. He dragged his fingers away, leaving a hot, wet mess against her thighs.

She stared up at him in confusion until he took her hand in his and drew her up out of her seat.

They walked out the front doors, not paying any attention to who might be looking, and practically ran to his truck. Her knees were wobbly and her underwear was soaked, but she kept pace with him.

He fairly shoved her into the truck, parked neatly behind the theater, away from prying eyes. Her wig fell off, to the floor of his truck, and her hair spilled free in a tangle.

He leaned her back on the seat and flipped up her skirt, tugging her panties down her thighs to just above her knees before his mouth was on her.

She grunted, her hands finding the top of his head, both pushing and pulling at him as his lips and tongue set in on her. God, but she loved the way he made her feel. She'd never known this kind of bliss with her previous boyfriends. She couldn't remember ever being so _desperate _for hands moving, gripping, kneading at her skin. For lips ghosting over her ankles, her knees, her hips as softly, as reverently as they did her lips. For the scrape of whiskers, faint across his jaw, abrading her thighs. Maybe it was him. Maybe she would never feel this with anyone else. And she couldn't muster any fear for that. Any fear that one day she might miss this passion; this incredible feeling of wanting and being wanted. She wondered briefly if that meant she didn't think she'd ever be without _him_ or something else entirely.

He suckled her clit, his teeth grazing, his tongue flicking, and then he sunk lower, tasting the length of her slit, making her quiver and arch her hips for more. One of his hands slid beneath him and tangled with her underwear, dragging it further down, where they got stuck on her foot, her shoe, before he finally tossed them down to the floor, forgotten. His tongue was curling, lapping at her, and her thighs tensed almost painfully. Her back bowed off the truck seat and his hands gripped her ass, squeezing, kneading his long fingers, holding her against his mouth.

She reached for him, grabbing at his shoulders, digging her nails in, balling his shirt up into her fists as she muttered unintelligible things, fractured sentences, babbled, pleading words, "More… More… God, you… Yes, there… Oh, oh… I can't… I can't… Please, Noah, please…"

He dropped her back to the seat and detached from her and she frowned at the loss. But he was yanking her shirt out her skirt just as quickly, tearing her blouse open, sending buttons flying. And she remembered, vaguely, something he'd said to her about how she would feel with some safe husband, wishing she had someone who wanted her so much he would tear her clothes from her body. She'd been eager and excited then, but to actually have it happening… To see the hunger in his eyes as he dragged her bra down and out of the way, bunching her skirt at her waist, she almost climaxed just from the raw _want _in his face, in his eyes as they drank in her heaving breasts and her slick thighs.

She sat up and reached for his shirt, pulling it up his body and over his head, admiring the way his shoulders moved and flexed, how the muscles tightened along his biceps. His shirt fell to the dashboard and she dragged her hands down his chest, pausing to flick his silver nipple ring before scraping her nails down the trail of dark hair leading from his navel. She undid his belt without looking, keeping her eyes on his, yanking on it until it was free, before she unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper, shoving them down a few inches, her thumbs rubbing across his hipbones. She sunk her hand down and drew him free of the confines of his pants, her hand gripping his shaft, so hard, so hot, thumb flicking up and over the head, swiping pre-cum and rubbing it in an infinity sign across his skin, over and over.

He leaned in and kissed her, so hard their teeth knocked and she was flattened against the seat once more. He hiked her legs up onto his thighs and she could feel his jeans, the denim coarse against her skin. He reached past to the glove compartment and knocked it open, grabbing out a condom he kept stashed there and tore it open with his teeth. While he rolled it on, he ducked his head and wrapped his lips around a pebbled nipple, nuzzled his nose against her breast as he sucked and plucked lightly with his teeth. She gripped the tail of his 'hawk and held him against her, arching into his talented tongue.

He gripped her ass in his hands and lifted her as he sunk inside and she threw her head back hard, nearly knocking it against the armrest on the door. He just filled her so completely, stretching her until she felt him everywhere. The feeling zig-zagged down her body until her toes curled and she drew a deep, raspy breath.

It wasn't the easiest position, her one leg was flattened against the back of the seat, although he helped that by simply hooking her leg over his shoulder. He dragged his fingers down the back of her thigh, blunt nails scraping lightly.

It was quick and hard and incredible.

He pumped inside her furiously, never slowing. He leaned down over her, mouth moving from her breasts to her neck down to her belly and back. And his hands were all over, holding her waist, teasing her thighs, playing with her nipples, plucking them, rolling them between his fingers. When she felt it coming, she slid her own hand down between them and rubbed her fingers against her clit. And she felt him twitch inside her before he bent down and caught her lips, his hand buried in her hair, tightening, tangling. He snapped his hips, twisted and turned them, and she came on a cry against his mouth, panting his name as his tongue reached out and dabbed her lip, before his teeth bit down and he came on a growled grunt.

He slid her leg down and out of the way before he collapsed on top of her, panting, cheek stuck to her slick skin. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath, smiling as she felt a warm tingle of satisfaction spread all over.

"That was…"

"Fuckin' amazing," he said, nodding.

She laughed turning her head down to look at him. "I had no idea what was going on in that movie."

He grinned, resting his chin on her. "Fuck if I know."

She dragged her fingers down his face and he nipped after them playfully.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she shook her head. "I can't tell if public date night was a fail or not…"

His eyebrows hiked. "Babe, the best part of public date night is public _sex_…" He shook his head. "Perfect score. Ten out of ten." He held a hand up for her to high-five and with a roll of her eyes, she did.

Somehow, she thought him running to a garbage can in a dark, dirty parking lot to throw out their used condom was not as romantic as he might have thought. But when he climbed into the truck after, took her hand, and kissed her palm, she decided it really didn't matter. And when they got back to her place and took a shower before cuddling up on the couch, watching a movie over Netflix with a bowl of popcorn and his favorite, Red Vines, she thought it was much better.

.o.

Puck was whistling as he worked. He only had one car left before he was done for the day and all it needed was an oil change.

"Hey," Finn called out as he walked over.

Puck nodded in reply.

"So Mike and Sam texted, they're breaking out the X-Box, wanna know if you wanna hang."

Puck tried to remember the last time he spent any real time with the guys. His brows furrowed. He seriously couldn't remember. He'd been so caught up in Rachel and everything that he mostly just saw the guys at school. And especially since they started dating on the down lo, he spent all of his free time with her.

But it was Thursday, and that usually meant they hit up BreadstiX for take-out and watched Grey's, which he _totally _didn't like, but she loved. And then he talked her into watching Criminal Minds even though that serial killer shit scared her, 'cause that mostly just meant she cuddled up with him more than usual.

"Uh…" He wiped his hands on a rag and reached into his coveralls for his cell. "Gimme a sec."

He shot off a text to Rachel, half hoping she'd tell him to have fun with his friends and half hoping she'd tell him she was looking forward to seeing him and he should blow them off, even if that wasn't her style. It wasn't that he didn't wanna hang with the guys, it was just… _Rachel_. But at the same time, he did kinda want to just kick back and relax, blow of some steam.

He scrubbed a hand through his 'hawk as he waited, ignoring Finn's curious staring.

His phone dinged with her reply and his lips quirked.

_You should go out with them! You don't like Grey's anyway! But, if it's not too late after, come say goodnight! ;)_

He grinned and replied that he'd stop by even if it was late before turning to look at Finn and shrugging. "Yeah, I can hang."

Finn looked between him and his phone. "Asking your mom?" he wondered.

"I just gotta finish up with this car and then we can head," he said, ignoring his question.

"Oh, you want some help?" he offered.

"Sure. Faster we get it done, faster I can kick your ass at COD."

He snorted. "You're on."

.o.

"We should make this like, a _weekly _thing…" Mike said, before he threw his head back, stuck a fist to his chest and gave a long, loud burp.

The other guys laughed.

Sam shook his head. "I dunno if I can eat this much pizza every week," he muttered, rubbing his full stomach.

"Dude, nobody made you eat that whole thing," Finn reminded, eyes wide.

He grinned. "It was _really _good."

"My schedule's kinda packed to do this weekly…" Puck said, shrugging.

"Hey, yeah, what's up with that?" Sam turned to look at him, brows furrowed. "You're never around anymore…"

Mike nudged him with his elbow. "Yeah, who's the lucky lady, Puck?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Or is this another of those long line of cougar things…?" He frowned.

Puck pursed his lips, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Nah… No cougars. I'm done with that."

Sam and Finn exchanged a look while Mike nodded sagely, patting his shoulder.

"Good idea, man… Honestly, I'm a little surprised you haven't been seriously hurt by someone's husband by now…"

His eyebrows hiked. "Are you kidding? Some dude stabbed me with a fork once."

"A _fork?_" Finn laughed.

Puck shrugged. "First thing he grabbed."

They chuckled, shaking their heads at him.

"So what happened?" Sam asked.

"Dudes, this isn't book club, we're not gonna start having heart to hearts and flashing our vaginas at each other… We're here to blow shit up." He waved his controller.

"Classic defense strategy," Mike said, eyes narrowed. "What's up, Puck?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing. I came here to hang out with you guys and play COD. Not talk chicks."

Sam frowned in confusion. "Don't we usually do both?"

Sighing, he glanced at the time. It was almost eight, which meant she'd be watching Big Bang Theory soon. And then Parks and Rec, with a Family Guy rerun on commercials. He frowned. When the hell did he learn that schedule?

"If Puck doesn't wanna talk about it, it's cool," Finn defended.

"I don't." Puck looked back at them. "So can we focus? Sam was complaining about eating his weight in pizza…" He waved a finger around as if to tell them to continue.

Mike was still giving him a suspicious look, but eventually, they got back to basics. Junk food, name calling, and blowing shit up.

All in all, when he wasn't watching the clock and wondering what Rachel was doing, it was a pretty cool night.

.o.

She buzzed him in at eleven and waited in her open doorway for him to come off the elevator. She met him with a sleepy smile and her arms out. He hugged her around her waist and buried his face in her shoulder, kissing her neck.

"Did you have fun?" she asked.

He backed her up into her apartment and kicked the door closed behind him, drawing his head up to look down at her, her shiny dark hair mussed from her pillow. "Yeah. Think I'm good for Red Vines for the rest of the month." He frowned, thinking of the three packs he ate over the course of the night.

She laughed lightly and tipped her head back to see him. "I'm glad." She scrubbed her nails down the nape of his neck. "You're always busy and you spend all your time with me…" She rolled her eyes lightly. "Not that I'm complaining, but… You should have time with your friends too."

"Mmhmm." He leaned down and pecked her lips. "So?" He shrugged. "What happened on Grey's?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh!" she said excitedly. Taking his hand, she led him to her couch, where she spent the next half hour telling him every detail.

And he didn't like Grey's, seriously, he didn't. But he grinned the whole time. She was just so animated and happy, with her hands waving around and her cheeks flushed. She was beautiful. And he'd have happily spent the whole night listening to her talk about the show. But it was late and he had school tomorrow and she was yawning every five minutes anyway. So finally, he said he should go.

She walked him to the door, resting her head against his arm.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Nodding, he leaned down to kiss her goodbye. "Love you."

She smiled. "Love you too."

So yeah, that weekly games night, he decided maybe that'd be okay. He'd just drop by and catch up with her afterward. At least this way he didn't have to actually _watch _Grey's. He could just listen to her recap and watch her be cute. Win, win.

.o.

Rachel was excited and nervous and she had no idea why.

It was Valentine's Day. An overrated holiday that for the life of her she couldn't remember ever enjoying. Yes, for a little while each year, she let the hopeless romantic inside her loose. But then reality would come crashing down and she would remember that she was a mature woman who didn't need the frivolity of flowers and teddy bears and chocolates. Of course, she hadn't had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day either. Especially one like Noah.

School hadn't even begun yet, but already girls walked up and down the hallways, some with flowers, some with balloons, a few with cheesy teddy bears proclaiming their significant other's love. They gushed to their friends and rubbed it in others faces and really, Rachel thought, it was either a popularity contest or a matter of whose boyfriend had more money to spoil them with. She rolled her eyes at it all. What a fuss over nothing!

And then, a man walked into the office with a large bouquet of pristine white and red roses.

Rachel took a deep breath and pasted a smile on as he handed her a clipboard to sign. "Who are these for?" she asked, wondering how much enthusiasm she might muster to make the call across the PA. She'd already had to do this no less than six times since she arrived for work. Although, she suspected three of the bouquets delivered to Coach Sylvester were sent by Sue herself.

"Uh…" He looked down at his notes again and nodded. "Rachel Berry."

Her eyes widened. "I-I'm _sorry_?"

"Says here they're for Rachel Berry." He shrugged. "Happy V-Day." With that, he turned and left.

Rachel gaped, turning her eyes back on the lovely arrangement. It wasn't that she hadn't expected her and Noah to celebrate, but they'd agreed to something small and simple; to spending the evening together. She certainly hadn't expected anything extravagant. But… She had to admit, the flowers really were just gorgeous.

She carefully searched for a card and finally found one stuck carefully between the stems.

Searching her immediate vicinity for others, she bit her lip and tore open the envelope eagerly.

It wasn't signed, instead there were four simple sentences scrawled in his familiar writing.

_I remember when I realized  
>The depth of your beauty for the first time<br>A million ears had heard you  
>But none had listened quite like mine.<em>

She smiled slowly. It was beautiful, but it felt… unfinished.

She spent her morning running them over in her head, thinking of them in his voice, of his hands on his guitar. Of him scrawling it out on their sheet paper as he sat up late one night at home, tapping his foot against his bed.

She hardly got any work done. She was too busy thinking of him, scanning everybody who walked past her office for his face. A few times she even considered paging him just for an excuse to see him. But she remained resolved that she would just have to wait for the end of the day. They would celebrate then. Until that time, she would admire her flowers, sitting prettily on her desk, their scent wafting over to her and making her smile widen.

.o.

As break rolled around, she waited hopefully, looking from the door to the clock. They had an unspoken rule that he shouldn't drop in and see her, just in case it aroused suspicion, but she was beginning to seriously regret that.

Suddenly, a chipper blonde flounced into her office, a wide smile on her face. She waved.

"Hello Brittany," Rachel said, standing from her seat. "Any progress on your cat?"

She pouted her lips sadly. "Unfortunately, I think he has an ecstasy addiction now."

Her brows furrowed. "Really…" She turned her eyes away for a moment. "Well, I'm sure with some encouragement and support you'll have him rehabilitated in no time."

Brittany broke out in a bright grin and nodded. "Yeah, that's what my girlfriend said… But with not so many words…"

Rachel bit her lip as she nodded in return.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Puckleberry," she said, dropping a box of chocolates on the counter before turning on her heel and walking off.

"Puckle-what?" she called after her in confusion. Shaking her head, she looked back down at the box of chocolate before her and her brows furrowed. They were vegan and she knew from having had a few over the years, they were _delicious_.

A small card sat on top and she turned it over curiously.

_Every phrase that leaves your lips  
>Makes me feel as if I'm paralyzed<br>Talking is trivial, sing another crazy note  
>And I will be a third below<em>

She smiled and held the card against her heart. It was risky, asking his friend to deliver it, but Rachel trusted he knew what he was doing. No offense to Brittany, but Rachel got the idea that she wasn't all quite there. And sadly, she rather hoped that was the case, because she didn't imagine it would go over well if she shared that Noah had asked her to give the secretary chocolates.

Taking a seat at her desk, she plucked one from the box and let it melt on her tongue. All the while, she thought over what she'd said.

_Puckleberry_.

What an odd girl.

.o.

By lunch time, Rachel had polished off half her chocolates, slapped Principal Figgins hand away when he tried to sneak one, and fielded various calls for Sue Sylvester that came from a surprising amount of men and a few women pledging their love for her.

The teddy bear snuck up on her.

Honestly, she wasn't so busy that she hadn't seen someone come in. She couldn't have been!

But there it was, sitting simply on her counter, holding a stuffed pink microphone in one paw and a heart in the other. A small card was tucked under the red ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.

She brought it down to her desk and shook her head, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt.

_Darling listen  
>The audience is calling you<br>(They're calling you)  
>There's no way in hell that<br>They will ever feel you like I do_

"Well? Wouldn't you be in love with him?" She turned the mic up to the bear's mouth. "Exactly. It's impossible not to be."

She placed the bear with her flowers and half-eaten chocolates.

Every few minutes, she would look over at them and her heart would swell.

.o.

As the day came to an end, she watched the clock, waiting for the bell to ring, eager to leave as soon as possible. Principal Figgins had been kind enough to tell her she could leave at quarter after three, having seen her gifts and expecting she had plans. She knew Noah didn't have to work at Burt's and he'd already left a flower and a box of chocolates each for his mom and sister. Which meant he was all hers for the rest of the day.

The balloons surprised her.

She'd been sure that she wouldn't get any more; she'd already been completely spoiled.

But then a delivery man walked into her office with a handful of heart-shaped balloons.

"Rachel Berry?"

Nodding, she buried her face in her hands and laughed. Shaking her head, she brought her hands down and sighed softly. "Sorry…" She held a hand out to sign off on them before taking the strings and drawing them over the counter.

A note was attached to one; she flipped it up and read the last of his song.

_It makes no difference where you come from  
>I don't care if you need my love<br>You know I'll be there  
>I swear I want to sing to the world<br>No need to keep it a secret  
>You are the one, the only<br>My musical soulmate_

Grabbing up the rest, she read it through three times before wiping at her eyes as they burned with tears.

Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands shook as she breathed in deeply.

She had to sit down when her knees shook.

This boy— _man_, she corrected, was so _unexpected_. He'd come into her life, full of mischief and flirtation and she'd been so sure it wouldn't amount to anything. And now she was in this clandestine affair with him, against all moral reasoning. But how he made her _feel_… How loved she felt with him in her life…

She couldn't regret it.

Not one bit.

.o.

Puck had already talked his ma down twice. She wanted to meet his girlfriend, one she was sure he had since he_suspiciously _had plans on Valentine's Day. He tried the 'hanging out with the guys' thing, but she reminded him that most of his friends had girlfriends and the others were _surely _handsome enough to get a date for the night. And when he tried to argue he didn't have a girlfriend, she suggested he spend the night with them then; they'd go to BreadstiX or order in and have a family night. He blamed it on the fact that she was lonely and he got her flowers; damn him for being a badass son. So he begged off again and told her he really did have plans and no, they weren't with a girlfriend. So what if he was lying. She'd thank him someday for not putting another scandal on her plate.

He and Rachel did have plans. And he figured she had to be pretty stoked after all the gifts he got her. Saved up a crapload of money from working with Burt to get all that stuff too. And yeah, he wasn't really a big fan of _holidays _like this, especially when they didn't mean a day off from school, but he knew his girl deserved it. Plus he worked his ass off on that song and he planned on singing it to her later. It was the first one he'd written on his own since they started writing together. And he was kind of proud of it.

She buzzed him up without him having to say a word.

He took the stairs because the elevator was gonna take awhile.

When he came around the corner, she was waiting in the doorway, staring impatiently at the elevator doors, chewing on her lip.

"Hey," he called out.

Her head swiveled abruptly and a smile brightened her face as she saw him. Not bothering to wait for him to reach her, she ran down the hall and jumped into his arms with a happy squeal.

He laughed, catching her.

She kissed him before he could get another word out. Fingers buried in the tail of his 'hawk, legs squeezing his waist, her lips slanted across his until air became a pained necessity, stabbing at his chest.

When she finally drew back, lips swollen, she panted, "Hi," at him and nuzzled his nose.

"Yeah…" He licked his lips and blinked a few times, trying to focus. Clearing his throat, he managed, "Happy Valentine's Day."

She pressed her forehead to his. "Noah… Your gifts…" She shook her head. "You didn't have to." She pecked his mouth. "But thank you."

"Welcome." He looked around. "We should probably go in your apartment."

She flushed. "Oh. Right." She laughed. "I—I got excited."

He grinned. "S'way I like it."

She rolled her eyes and unwrapped her legs from his waist.

He squeezed her thigh though to keep her holding onto him and walked down the hall. He closed her door behind them and turned her back to it. Brushing her hair back from her face, he rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "You want me to sing it for you?"

She leaned into his touch and nodded.

It was a good thing he'd started leaving his guitar at her place.

Patting her butt, he let her down to her feet before he walked into her bedroom.

He paused when he found her gift to him on the bed.

A flimsy red lace teddy.

Eyebrows hiked, he turned to look at her.

She smirked at him seductively. "Happy Valentine's Day, Noah."

He changed his mind.

Best fucking holiday _ever_.

.o.

"I think… that's… the whole… apartment…" she panted, turning her head to look at him from where they sat on the cool floor.

He grinned and held a hand up.

With a laugh, she high-fived him. "Well done, partner."

He snorted before turning his head to look at her. "I didn't think that table was gonna hold up…" He shrugged. "Strong furniture."

She nodded. "I think it's oak."

"Sweet."

"One of the legs felt a little loose though…"

Just as she said it, the decorative table they'd only just finished screwing on gave a groan and a snap before it collapsed, taking a lamp down with it.

"Probably not oak then…"

He started laughing, pressing a hand to his stomach and bending over.

She shook her head at him, smiling. "On the bright side…" She lifted a shoulder. "I'll need a new table… Which means another piece of furniture we're yet to _christen_…"

Sitting back up on a happy sigh, he leaned over and kissed her. "I like the way you think."

.o.

It was an early Sunday morning when she got the urge.

"Would you like to see my mom?" she asked him.

He was in the middle of flipping a vegan chocolate chip pancake when she called the question to him from where she was sitting on her couch.

He stared at her a second, brow raised, and then nodded. "Yeah, sure." Turning the stove down, he walked over, dropping down to sit with her.

She turned the laptop in his direction. "I told you she was a struggling singer…?" She clicked on a button and brought up a YouTube page. "Well, she still is…"

His eyes widened as he took in the background picture of a beautiful brunette, her head tipped, long hair falling down her back in waves. She looked… _just like _Rachel. Like, it was _uncanny_.

"She's hot," he mentioned.

"Noah!" She slapped his shoulder.

He snorted and wrapped an arm around her. "No, I mean… It's crazy. She looks _just _like you."

"Well, technically, I suppose I would look like _her_…" She chewed her lip, her brow furrowed. "She is quite attractive though, isn't she?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but… You're hotter."

She turned to smile at him. "Thank you, Noah."

"No, I mean it."

Unconsciously, she reached up and touched her nose.

He batted her hand away. "I love your nose."

She looked over at him, uncertain.

"Seriously…" He nodded, face full of sincerity. "Y_our nose has been passed down from generation to generation as a birth right;_ it's a sign of survival among our people! And _you?_" He grinned. "You rock it, babe!"

She laughed, ducking her head slightly, cheeks blooming pink, and leaned into him. "In any case…" She motioned to the screen. "Would you like to hear her sing?"

He shrugged. "Rach…" He shook his head. "She might've come first, but she's a knock-off…" He kissed her hair. "I don't know her, so I can't really speak for her. But I know one good thing she did and that was bringing you into the world… It's her loss she doesn't know you."

Rachel turned a watery smile on him. "_Really?_"

He kissed her lips lingeringly and held her face, making her look him in the eye. "Really."

She sniffled before finally nodding.

Wiping her tears away, he kissed her forehead and then her nose. "I gotta go check our pancakes before they burn."

"Okay."

They didn't watch Shelby's videos.

And Rachel unsubscribed from her.

When Puck asked why she just shook her head, "I think it's time I stop chasing after bits and pieces of her."

Despite it all, she actually looked happy, even content with her decision. Like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

.o.

It was weird, but he didn't notice it until a week before Regionals.

He walked by Jacob Ben Israel and the kid didn't flinch. He didn't cross the hall or dart into an abandoned classroom. He just walked on by.

Puck figured it made sense since he hadn't picked on him in awhile. Like, since Rachel was dating that Adams jerk.

He didn't worry like he thought he would. He didn't start wondering if people thought he was losing his badass edge. Ben Israel wasn't posting on his blog that he was a wuss like he had when Puck was dating Lauren. He was just… another guy. A guy who didn't toss people in dumpsters or shove them into lockers or swirly them for the hell of it. 'Cause he was calm. He had shit handled. There was no real stress in his life outside of homework. His ma wasn't on him to be a better son because he _was _a better son. He helped out with his sister and he did the dishes every night and he worked at the shop for Burt. And outside of that, he spent most of his time with Rachel, in her apartment, writing songs or just, being together.

Puck was happy. Happier than he'd ever been.

So he wasn't surprised really when somebody started to notice.

.o.

"What's up with you?"

Puck looked up to see Santana hovering nearby, hands on her hips, bitch-face marked with a sneer and a cocked eyebrow.

"Nothing," he said, hauling his guitar up and over his shoulder. "I gotta head. Ma's working late again."

She shook her head. "Something's different with you."

His brows hiked. "I think all that les-loving you're gettin' from Britt is going to your head."

"Please…" she scoffed. "You're all… _glowy _or whatever."

He scowled. "What is this, Twilight? I don't _glow_, San. I'm a _dude_."

She rolled her eyes. "And you're smiling all the time… It's _weird_."

"Yeah, shit, call the police, Puckerman's _happy_," he muttered sarcastically.

She pursed her lips. "Don't play me for a fool… I know something's up." She walked toward him, lip curled. "And you gots to know I'll figure it out." With a wiggle of her fingers, she left the choir room.

Jaw ticking, Puck glared at the floor.

Santana was like a damn blood hound and she hated being left out of the loop.

He wondered if it'd be smarter to let it play out or to just tell her the truth.

Much as she used to be his les-bro, she'd blow this shit wide open. He couldn't risk that.

Couldn't risk Rachel.


	5. Part V

**V.**

Puck knew Santana was on the lookout, but he stopped by the office to see Rachel anyway. Waiting out the day seemed like forever lately.

She looked up at him, a smile spreading wide before she looked around carefully.

She met him at the counter and placed a random piece of paper between them so it would look like they were discussing something. But all the while, she drummed her fingers over his hand.

"What're you wearing under your skirt?" he wondered, wiggling his eyebrows.

She snorted. "Noah…" she said, warningly.

"'Least gimme a color," he said, tipping his head and grinning.

She pursed her lips. "Where are you spending your lunch?" she asked instead.

He shrugged. "Choir room. I wanna practice our song again. We got Regionals like, _tomorrow_…" He shook his head. "Can't screw this up."

"You won't," she said, staring at him seriously. "You worked hard and you've got this…"

"Are you comin'?" he wondered. "To Regionals…?" He frowned. "I know it's public, but… Shue likes you. He'd probably think it was cool you were supporting us or whatever."

She chewed her lip. "Maybe…" She rolled her eyes, amending, "_Probably_."

He grinned. "Cool." Knocking his knuckles on the counter, he turned to leave.

He reached the door before she called out, "Pink."

He smirked back at her, winking before he left.

She still blushed.

.o.

He whistled the tune at work.

In his truck.

Pumping gas.

In the shower.

_Everywhere_.

He practiced the song in his head, rolled the lyrics over his lips until they were semi-permanent. Until there was no chance he would forget them.

He'd had solos before; he'd sung for chicks and he played back-up more times than he could count. But when he went out there in front of that crowd for Regionals, it would be just him on the stage. Just his voice for everybody to either love or hate. It would all be riding on him and this song.

So he practiced and he practiced until it was second nature. Until the song was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing before he went to sleep. Or, okay, it was the second to first and last thing, 'cause he was usually thinking of Rachel and either what crazy hot dream he just had about her or what crazy hot thing he'd done with her that day.

Still… Second on his list was pretty good.

.o.

He had to tell her. He knew he did but he was scared (in a badass kinda way!). What if he told her Santana was asking questions and she wanted to cut her losses? What if she thought it was too much pressure or the reward wasn't worth it in the end? What if she dumped his ass?

He wanted to think she wouldn't. He wanted to think she loved him too much to do that, to lose him. And he knew she loved him, he didn't question that. But shit, sometimes he worried he loved her more or that he just wasn't worth much in the big scheme of things. Not enough to lose her job and potentially fuck up her life anyway.

So he sat on it. On the fact that Santana was sniffing around and probably making progress. Because he couldn't lose Rachel over some technicality. For all he knew, San would pull a Grinch and grow a heart and leave him to his business. (What? Just 'cause he was a Jew didn't mean he couldn't watch Christmas specials… Jim Carrey was _boss_ in the remake!) Or maybe she'd just dangle it over his head and torture him awhile. He could handle that as long as he still had Rachel in the end.

"You're pensive," she mentioned, lower lip jutted out slightly. She reached up and rubbed the furrow of his brows away with her fingers. "What's up?"

He shrugged, hugging her closer to his side. "Glee shit," he muttered. It wasn't a total lie. Santana was in glee…

She rubbed his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. "You're going to rock that solo, Noah."

He half-smiled. "Yeah, babe."

"Do you want to do something to de-stress?" she wondered.

His eyebrows hiked, thoughts immediately heading toward the bedroom. "Sure."

"Wonderful. I'll get the board games, you get the snacks." She slapped his thigh and hopped off the couch.

He laughed under his breath. So that wasn't exactly what he was thinking, but…

They played Monopoly for two hours before he shut her competitive streak up by calling a tie and hauling her off to her bedroom for _his _kind of de-stresser, where, _really_, they were _both _winners.

.o.

"One more time," he said.

"Noah…" Rachel tilted her head and smiled at him, her dark shiny hair spilling over her shoulder. "You've practiced it six times since you got here." She sat down next to him and covered his hand on the strings. "It's _perfect_."

He licked his lips, nodding as he sat back. "I know, I just… It's kinda big, y'know?"

She rested her head in her hand, body turned to face him better. "You're nervous they won't like it."

He scrubbed his fingers over his hair. "It's just… It's _ours_…" He stared at her searchingly. "We wrote this. _All _of it. And I don't…" He sighed. "I know it's stupid, but it's like… This is my chance. To show them that I'm better than what they think."

"Oh, Noah…" Brows furrowed, she sat forward and plucked his guitar from his hands. She placed it gently next to the couch and climbed into his lap, sitting back on his knees. His hands found her hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth. She smoothed out his shirt across his chest and shook her head. "You don't have to prove to anybody that you're talented," she told him.

He opened his mouth to argue.

"Listen to me," she said before he could. "The reason Will gave you this solo is because he _trusts_ you… Because he knows that you're a talented person and a strong singer…" She stared at him searchingly. "And everybody in that crowd, they're just waiting for you to amaze them. They _expect _you to be incredible." She smiled. "And you are." She reached up and squeezed his shoulders. "Your father is not in that crowd, Noah. Because he _stupidly_ threw away the chance to be in your life, to see you become this wonderful person that you are… He's not watching, but _I _am. And your _friends _are. And everybody who matters, everybody who really knows you…?" Her eyebrows hiked. "They know that you will do great things with your life… They know that you are going to pull off this inspiring song tomorrow." She framed his face in her hands. "Okay?"

He wrapped his fingers around her delicate wrists and tugged her forward, meeting her lips in a kiss. "Okay," he said, kissing her again and again. "Okay."

He believed her.

.o.

Puck couldn't stop checking his phone.

He hadn't seen her since this morning, before Mr. Shue called them in for a pre-show practice.

She'd assured him that she would be there, but he was still nervous. His ma and sister were out there too; he wondered if Rachel would recognize them.

When he still didn't get a message from her saying she was there or wishing him good luck, he dug into his pocket and pulled out one of her many notes that she was always leaving around for him. His lips quirked automatically, before he'd even unfolded it.

_I love you and I can't wait to see you tonight. I promise this time I won't make fun of your caveman feet, especially since you always give me the best foot-rubs and you deserve the same in return! *_

He laughed, shaking his head to himself. It was a pretty new note; he'd stayed in on Thursday to watch Grey's with her and rubbed her feet while she gasped and freaked out over all the drama. And then when Criminal Minds came on, she patted his foot and he put it in her lap, but she spent awhile muttering about how he needed to take better care of his feet, especially with the chances of athlete's foot bothering him from his sports.

"Yo, Puck?"

He turned to look and found the guys waving him over.

He tucked the note back in his pocket and walked toward them, feeling a little less stressed.

.o.

Rachel was excited. She'd never been to a show choir competition before. Since dating Noah, she'd researched it heavily online and was surprised to find just how competitive it really was. And the singers, which were a wide scope of teens from all backgrounds, were just amazing. Not, she was sure, as amazing as Noah, but still adequately talented.

Taking a seat in the packed theater, she willed her excitement down. She recognized Principal Figgins and Coach Sylvester up near the front, but other than them, she couldn't say she recognized any other faces waiting excitedly for the competition to start.

"I'm _bored_…" a girl muttered in front of her.

Rachel's eyes fell to her, where she sat slumped in her seat, her medium length brown hair stuck up in a lopsided ponytail and a dress that said 'sister forced to look nice for a sibling's competition' written all over it. She kept kicking her foot against the seat in front of her and huffing loudly.

Her mother rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "_Oy vey_…" She turned to look at her daughter with a raised brow. "Becca, this is important… Now sit up straight and quit complaining. Your brother's been working hard for this and you should be proud…"

"But how come there's no _popcorn?_" she complained. "Noah said this was a _theater!_"

"Not _that _kind of theater, now hush."

"Well how come Noah had all those Red Vines if it's not?"

"He's probably nervous," she dismissed. "This is his first solo." She smiled widely. "I wish your Nana Connie could've made it. She'd be so proud!"

"Can I go find Noah for some Red Vines?"

Frustrated, her mother threw her hands up and muttered for patience under breath. Turning back to her daughter, she said, "No, and what did I say about sitting up?"

"Ugh…" she whined, but shifted up into her seat.

She didn't, however, stop kicking the seat in front of her.

Rachel bit her lip, squirming slightly. She was partly amused and partly horrified. In one way, she was a little excited to see Noah's family, in the other she was terrified they would turn around and somehow see that she was having an illicit relationship with him written all over her. Digging in her purse, she produced her phone and started texting quickly, eyes darting from Becca and Aviva who, now that she was really paying attention, truly bore a striking resemblance to Noah, and back to her phone.

.o.

"Does anybody else feel nauseous?" Rory wondered, face screwed up as he rubbed his stomach.

"Red Vine?" Puck offered, waving the bag at him.

"Hey, yeah." He took one out cheerily and gnawed on the end, the need to barf apparently forgotten.

Puck dropped the bag to the table dismissively when he felt his phone buzzing and pulled it out. He grinned when he realized it was from Rachel.

"Who's that?" Rory wondered through a mouthful of red licorice.

"Huh? Uh…" He frowned. "Family, y'know? Wishin' me luck on my solo."

He nodded. "Wish my family was here."

"Yeah, sucks dude." He opened the text and read it through a couple times.

_I'm here. And so is your mother and sister... They're sitting right in front of me!_

His phone buzzed before he could answer and he opened her related text.

_Your sister is very obsessed with candy… And I'm afraid she's kicking the seat in front of her in hopes of disturbing the toupe on the man sitting there…_

He snorted, admitting silently she was probably right.

A third text made his eyebrows hike.

_Mission__ successful. Your mother looks both irritated and terribly amused. I have to admit, I'm embarrassed for him but that toupe was ridiculous!_

Puck bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Answering her back, he texted, _Yeah, she's a brat. My nana with em?_

It was a minute before she answered back and Puck snapped his Red Vines back from Rory, who'd polished off half the bag and offered him a smiling shrug in apology.

_No. Sorry. :'( I know you wanted her to be here…_

He frowned, but he knew his Nana probably wasn't going to be able to make it. Still, sucked…

_S'okay_, he texted back, _I got you._

Her return text was filled with cheesy hearts and one word.

_Completely_.

.o.

He was feeling pretty good until their time got closer.

He'd been texting back and forth with Rachel and she was keeping him from stressing out too much. But then his luck ran out.

He was pretty sure competition time was cursed.

They were waiting for their turn when Santana walked in with one of her cat ate the canary smirks in place.

"I think we'll _all _be glad to know that I finally figured out what's got Puckerman so _happy _these days…" she said, drawing the attention of the other gleeks by waving her hand as if to gather them over for her gossip.

He sat forward, panic making his chest hurt, and glared a hole into her. "Shut it, San."

"_What?_" she asked innocently, putting a hand to her hip. "You should be _proud_, Pucky. Cougar-lovin' sex shark _strikes_again…" Her eyes flashed. "I mean, yeah, she's a little younger than your usual…" She scoffed. "And that nose, I'd watch out for that, it could take your eye out easy."

He stood from his seat, hands fisted. "Shut. _Up_."

"How cute…" she sneered, taking a few more steps to meet him head-on. "Standing up for your _lady love_…" Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. "I should've known… You always liked the frigid, _innocent _type when you're the complete _opposite_."

His jaw ticked. "Leave it the hell alone."

"She's not gonna stick around," she told him, her eyes narrowed. "Even _she _is too good for _you_."

He looked away, his body shaking, his teeth clenched. Insecurity flared up in him and his throat burned.

"What? Did I hurt your _feelings?_"

"Santana!" Finn exclaimed, standing from his seat in defense of his best friend. "That's _enough!_"

"No!" She glared at him. "He's been keeping secrets and it's only fair he shares with all of us…" She laughed shortly, humorlessly. "I mean, think about it, if this got out, he could be suspended, even _expelled_… He put our team _at risk!_" She turned to glare at him. "Always thinking with your _dick_, aren't you?"

"If you don't want him to get into trouble and you don't want to risk the team, why don't you just keep whatever you know to _yourself?_" Quinn suggested, raising a brow.

"Where's the fun in that?" she scoffed.

"You just want to _hurt _him," she argued, standing and walking toward the Latina. "It's just like you… You don't _want _to be his girl, but you don't want anybody else to have him either…" She stared at her searchingly. "That's it, _right?_ That's _all_this is."

"Did I _ask _for your input?" She tipped her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. "No. So sit your stretch-marked ass_down_."

Quinn's mouth fell ajar, her eyes wide. "Oh, you did _not _just say that to me…"

"Oh, but I think I _did_."

Puck had never been so glad for a cat fight in his life.

Before Santana had a chance to reveal him, they were called up to perform, with Puck's solo opening for them.

He jumped from foot to foot a few times on spot, drawing a deep breath and licking his lips, trying to get himself a little more pumped. He touched the mic attached to the collar of his shirt worriedly, readjusted it, and then nodded at the stage director.

"You got this," Mr. Shue told him, grinning as he patted his shoulder and sent him out on to the stage.

It was dark, but he knew his mark from all their practices. He could hear the crowd, faintly talking, a cough here or there.

Palms sweating, he curled his fingers up and searched for a familiar face.

He finally found her, smiling and giving him a thumbs up.

A spotlight shone down at him and along with his voice, the band began playing the familiar notes that he'd written himself.

_Took a long hard look at my life  
>Lost my way while I was fighting the tide<br>A big black cloud, stormy sky  
>Followed me, oh I was living a lie<em>

He closed his eyes and thought of the first couple years of high school; of the bully he'd become, freely throwing slushees in people's faces, tossing them in dumpsters, swirlying them. All to stay on top; all to protect his image. All so he wouldn't be rejected for being just a guy with a guitar and a dream. If he was on top, he could do whatever he wanted and nobody could touch him.

He tipped his head back, brows furrowed, and sang a little deeper, eyes scanning over the faces filling the seats.

_So heartless, so selfish, so in darkness  
>When all your nights are starless<br>You're running outta hope_

His gaze fell on Rachel, smiling brightly at him, her hands clasped together beneath her chin.

He grinned widely, his heart giving a hard thump.

_But I found the strength inside to see  
>Found the better part of me<br>And I'll never let it go…_

Pressing a hand to his chest, he closed his eyes and shook his head, belting out the chorus, his foot tapping along with him.

_I've come a long, long way  
>Made a lot of mistakes<br>But I'm breathin', breathin'  
>That's right and I mean it, mean it<em>

Opening his eyes, he looked out at the people moving, leaning forward and bobbing their head to the music rising up, to his voice reaching out.

_This time I'm a little run down  
>I've been living out loud<br>I could beat it, beat it  
>That's right, cause I'm feelin', feelin'<br>Invincible_

He looked back to Rachel, who was leaning forward in her seat, moving her lips, singing along with him.

_When you're gone for days  
>On your own<br>Tear your heart out just to find your way home_

He pointed up.

_I've been so high…_

He directed his hand back down.

_I've sunk so low…_

He shook his head and cut his hands through the air in front of him.

_I've come so far, with nothing to show for it_

He leaned into his voice, shuffling his shoulders forward and back to the beat.

_Mistaken, I got so good at taking  
>But now I'm tired of faking<br>This story's getting old…_

He clapped a hand to his chest.

_So I found the strength inside to see  
>Found the better part of me<br>And I'll never let it go…_

Lights burst across the stage and the rest of the gleeks were lined up behind him, joining in for the chorus.

_I've come a long, long way  
>Made a lot of mistakes<br>But I'm breathin', breathin'  
>That's right and I mean it, mean it<br>This time I'm a little run down  
>I've been living out loud<br>I could beat it, beat it  
>That's right, 'cause I'm feelin', feelin'<br>Invincible!_

_Oh oh oh oh-oh  
>Oh oh oh oh oh-oh<br>Oh oh oh oh oh-oh…_

As they faded away once more, he took a step forward and the spotlight centered on him.

It was just his voice, softer, from a part deep inside of himself that he rarely let himself sing from.

He stared directly at Rachel.

_I'm not the only one  
>That crashed into the sun<br>And lived to fight another day…_

He pressed a hand across his heart and smiled sincerely.

_Like a super nova  
>That old life is over<br>I'm here to stay…_

He leaned forward, brows furrowed

_Now I'm gonna be  
>Invincible!<em>

The crowd cheered and stood from their seats, hooting and hollering as if to support him.

The gleeks were lit up again and singing background, swaying and smiling.

He threw his hands up as he sang the chorus one last time.

_I've come a long, long way  
>Made a lot of mistakes<br>But I'm breathin', breathin' [I'm breathing]  
>That's right and I mean it, mean it [Mean it]<br>This time I'm a little run down [I'm a little run down]  
>I've been living out loud [Living out loud]<em>

He hammered a fist against his chest.

_I could beat it, beat it  
>That's right 'cause I'm feelin', feelin'<br>Invincible_

The gleeks began walking skipping forward to gather at his back.

_Oh oh oh oh-oh  
>Oh oh oh oh oh-oh<br>Oh oh oh oh oh-oh  
>Oh-whoa<br>Invincible  
>Oh oh oh oh-oh<br>Oh oh oh oh oh-oh  
>Oh oh oh oh oh-oh<br>Oh-whoa_

Finally, the spotlight began to fade and he let one last word echo out around them.

_Invincible…_

He spotted Rachel, her fingers between her lips as she gave a loud, piercing whistle of approval.

He chuckled to himself, chest heaving, and nodded. He was proud she came, that she was there for him, even if Santana was going to ruin it; even if this was their last moment. That was _their_ song; a song that had the whole of the theater on their feet, clapping, cheering.

He could see his sister on her chair, jumping and throwing her hands up. And his mom, wiping at her face and clapping for him.

But his eyes kept going back to Rachel, who looked so damn proud of him that his heart ached with it.

He didn't have long to bask before they jumped into a group number, but it didn't change the fact that his song, his hard work, had touched the people in this room. Not just his girlfriend or his family, but strangers. And that told him that he did have talent; he could write and sing and it would mean something to someone other than himself. Maybe it wouldn't be the easiest road to follow, but he would do it. Any doubt he'd had about what he was going to do with the rest of his life was erased. And if, tomorrow, Principal Figgins called him into his office and told him he was expelled or suspended for what him and Rachel were doing, then fine. He'd walk away and jump in his truck and hopefully she was there next to him. Hopefully, she took a chance on him and they would do this together.

Because one way or another, Noah Puckerman was going to get out of Lima and he was going to spend his life chasing this feeling right here; this high of wowing a crowd and sharing his music.

.o.

When they were all back in the waiting room, the next choir up, Puck was still riding the high and so was everyone else. They piled into the room, laughing and holding onto each other. Even Quinn and Santana put their differences aside in favor of enjoying the moment.

"Hey guys, look who I found in the crowd," Mr. Shuester said.

He drew Rachel into the room and she waved awkwardly, looking from Shue back to the others.

"You were all amazing out there, really," she told him, clutching her hands in front of her.

He had to force himself not to reach out and hug her, to ask her how amazing it was to hear the crowd roar in approval, from _their _writing, _their _song!

"I was surprised to you," Mr. Shue said. "It's nice to see some more staff members showing some pride in us. I'm glad you came out."

Santana snorted, her good mood apparently fading.

Shue looked back at her in slight confusion.

"Come on! Like you haven't figured it out!" She looked around at everyone's faces incredulously. She stabbed a finger in his direction. "I can't be the only one who noticed Puckerman's been happy and nice, or as nice as he _can _be…" She waved a hand. "He hasn't shoved Ben-Israel into anything for _months!_"

"He's growing up." Reaching out, he squeezed Puck's shoulder. "Personally, I'm really glad to see it. He's really come along since he first started with us," Mr. Shue said, nodding. Brows furrowed, he turned to her in confusion. "Santana, what is this about?"

Puck stared at Rachel, who had paled considerably, her eyes wide.

"Puck's boinking—"

"Quinn," he interrupted loudly.

"_What?_" Quinn and Santana both shrieked.

He turned to look at his ex, brows furrowed pleadingly.

She stared at him, mouth agape, and then her eyes cut quickly to Rachel. She frowned.

"I, uh… We hooked back up. It's not… It ain't serious…" He licked his lips and shook his head. "Stress relief, y'know? Writing my own song for Regionals, it was kinda overwhelming…"

Santana looked unconvinced, her brow cocked and her hands on her hips. "_Really?_"

Quinn sighed, tipping her head back. "_Yes_…" she finally said. "Yes, all right… Puck and I have been… _Together_." She finally looked at him again, brow raised. "But it's over now," she said through grit teeth. "_Right?_"

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged. "Like I said… Nothing serious."

"Okay…" Mr. Shuester looked around at each of them. "Well, look, your personal lives aren't my business; I just _hope _that you're using more caution this time…" He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Trust me… That won't be a problem."

Puck just nodded, gaze stuck to the floor.

Mr. Shuester turned his attention back to Rachel, wanting a detailed description of how she liked their performance. Puck looked between Santana and Quinn; he was pretty sure as much as his baby mama just saved his ass, this wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.

.o.

They won.

They fucking _won _Regionals!

He swore he could hear Rachel give a scream of approval from the crowd as the results were announced.

.o.

"Ma, seriously!" he said, rolling his eyes.

"You were so wonderful up there, Noah," she told him, sniffling. "Your _voice_ and that _song_…" She pressed a hand to her heart and shook her head. "_Where _was that boy all this time, huh?"

He sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I dunno…" He shrugged. "Hey, I know I was a douche and I screwed up a lot, but…" He reached up and scrubbed a hand down his 'hawk awkwardly. "I'm gonna be better, all right?" He nodded at her. "I can be better than him."

"Oh, Noah." She took his face in her hands. "You already _are_, bubbala…" She sniffed. "You're already better and that—that _man _can't hold a _candle _to you." She frowned. "Do you hear me?"

He swallowed tightly, but nodded.

She hugged him, running a hand down the back of his head soothingly. "I'm so proud of you."

He half-smiled, squeezing her.

"Now…" She stepped back and wiped at her face. "You go out and celebrate with your friends…" She winked at him, and he got the idea that she knew he wasn't heading out with the gleeks. Or, at least he wouldn't be spending the whole night with them.

"I'll probably stay over at Finn's," he told her.

"Just be careful," she told him, her eyes wide.

He didn't comment as she shuffled Becca into the car and waved goodbye back to him.

Sam suddenly jumped on his back, shaking him by the shoulders and hooting loud in his ear. The rest of the gleeks quickly surrounded him and it was agreed that they were going out for something to eat.

He laughed and nodded, elbowing Sam from off his back. Rachel had already encouraged him via text to have fun and that she'd see him later, if not tomorrow. Along with a long congratulatory text full of hearts and smiley faces.

.o.

It was close to midnight when he showed up at her apartment.

She invited him in with a squeal and jumped in his arms.

Much as he loved pizza and bowling and horsing around with his friends, he had to say congratulatory sex was way better.

Now, lying back in her bed, arm crossed behind his head, she brought up the less than stellar part of the night.

"That was close," she said, sprawled out next to him.

He turned to look at her, brushing the hair off her face. "We dodged it."

"This time." She rolled onto her side and slid a leg over his. "Noah… You've got three and a half months left of school…" She stared at him searchingly. "Maybe it would be smarter if we just…" She bit her lip. "_Waited_."

He shook his head, leaning into her, until he felt every inch of her naked upper body pressed to his, and he leaned her back into her bed. "I don't wanna wait…" He kissed her, nipping her lip and soothing it with his tongue. He tangled his fingers in her hair and used his palm to tilt her face up. "We can do this…" He dropped his head and buried his face at her shoulder, suckling at her skin until she had a heart-shaped hickey.

She dragged her fingers through his hair and sighed softly.

He walked his fingers up and down her side, from her hip up to the curve of her breast, drawing music notes on her ribs at random.

"I had an idea for a song," she told him.

"Yeah?"

She smiled, nodding.

He rolled away from her to reach into the bedside table and pulled out a few empty pages of his sheet music. Lying down, he dropped them to her bare stomach and held a pen up. "Shoot."

She laughed and the papers wrinkled slightly under the weight of his hand. "You're really going to write it there?"

"If you'll stop moving," he said, grinning.

Tucking one arm behind her head, she smiled at him. With the other, she reached out and stroked her fingers from his temple back.

They spent the next hour going over her song idea, before finally he capped the pen and tucked their song away in the drawer. Rolling back over, she met him in the middle and they got comfortable.

"Your mom's not expecting you home?" she wondered, resting her head on his chest.

"Nah, she thinks I'm at Finn's."

She smiled slightly. "You sure do spend a lot of time at Finn's."

He snorted a laugh, dragging his fingers up and down her forearm, circling her elbow and doubling back at her wrist.

"You were amazing out there, Noah," she told him sleepily. Nuzzling her face into his chest, she murmured, "I can't wait to see you do it for the rest of your life."

He paused, a lump in his throat.

Her eyes were closed and he could feel her breath evening out. She was asleep in a matter of seconds.

All he could think was that he hoped she didn't see his life on stage unfold from anywhere else but next to him.

.o.

They spent the next day at her place; he was feeling pumped from Regionals and wanted to use the juice toward a few new songs. She made them breakfast and he didn't ask what was in it; it was edible and that was all that mattered. By lunch time, they'd abandoned anything constructive in favor of tearing each other's clothes off. He figured it was a better way to spend their afternoon anyway. She was his muse, so why not enjoy her to the fullest?

They'd ordered pizza for dinner and were still waiting on it while they lay in bed naked, arguing about whether marshmallow fluff was vegan enough for him to eat off her body.

"_You're _not eating it… So even if it's _not _vegan—"

"It could still be _absorbed _into my skin," she argued.

He scoffed. "You totally let me eat the chocolate syrup off you and didn't complain," he reminded.

"I was severely distracted at the time," she reminded, her lips pursed.

"Why? 'Cause my fingers were—"

"_Yes!_" she interrupted.

He grinned. "Yeah, good times…" His brows furrowed. "Hey, is there any chocolate sauce left?"

"_Noah…_" she muttered, exasperated.

He shrugged. "'m just saying… That was awesome."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Yes, it was," she admitted.

"'m gonna go check." He rolled off the bed. "Where's your laptop? 'M gonna see if marshmallow fluff is vegan too…"

"It's on my book shelf. It should be charged by now."

He saluted back to her before walking off, completely comfortable in the buff.

She chuckled to herself.

Ten minutes later, Puck came back with the chocolate sauce. "Fluff's got egg whites in it," he told her, shrugging.

Lying back on the bed, he dropped the syrup to the end table and grabbed his jeans, dragging them up and leaving them unbuttoned but zipped.

Her brows furrowed. "Why are you getting dressed?" she wondered, lips pursed in a pout.

He nodded his chin toward the clock. "Pizza dude's gonna be here soon…" He dug his wallet out of his pocket. "And the Daddies-Berry are gonna call any minute, so no fun for like, an _hour_." He shook his head. "Legit, I dunno what you guy talk about when they call _every _night."

She turned to check the time and her eyes widened. "_Oh_…" Climbing off her bed, she grabbed up her fuzzy pink robe and tied it around her waist before hurrying into her living room and grabbing her phone. It rang while she was walking back to her bed and she smiled automatically.

"Dads!" she exclaimed in greeting.

Puck grinned to himself. Sitting back down on the bed, he grabbed out the pen he kept in the drawer for his sheet music and uncapped it with his teeth. While she was chatting animatedly, he climbed up the bed to lie sideways.

Her eyes followed him as he untied her robe and spread it apart. Pressing a hand to her waist to keep her still, he slowly drew a lopsided heart just above her hip bone. In the center, he scrawled "N" and then he blew on it until it dried.

"Sorry?" she asked her dad, distracted. She nodded. "Oh, uh, yes, yes, that sounds very nice..."

He grinned, proud of himself. Figuring he'd just wait there until the pizza guy buzzed, Puck pressed a kiss to her temporary tattoo and rested his head back against her stomach, arms crossed over his chest. She dragged her fingers through his 'hawk absently. Closing his eyes, he listened to her voice and the faint sound of her dads arguing in the background about color patterns and what to do with her empty bedroom; guest or screening room.

From what he knew about Leroy and Hiram, they were cool dudes. Happily married, always bickering, and extremely proud of their only daughter. It wouldn't matter if she was a janitor or the President of the United States; she was absolutely perfect to them. He kind of envied her that. But then, he knew her, and he got why they'd be so proud. She was all kinds of amazing. He wondered if, one day, down the road, he'd meet them and they'd think he was good enough for her.

Where he was standing, knowing himself, he doubted it.

But it didn't change that he hoped they would.

.o.

She drew a similar heart on his hip; they washed off in the shower, but she touched her hip sometimes like she could still feel it, and she would smile, proud of it.

.o.

Monday morning it was back to the usual grind. The gleeks were still riding high on their win and Mr. Shue even had a banner strung up in the main hall proclaiming it. The rest of the school wasn't exactly interested, but that didn't mean he couldn't be proud.

It was break before a crack in his throw-Santana-off-him-and-Rachel plan showed.

"So you and Quinn…?" Finn said, leaning back against the lockers next to his, purposely looking anywhere but at Puck.

"Oh, uh… Yeah…" He frowned, scratching his fingers through the tail of his 'hawk awkwardly. "Listen—"

"Here's the thing…" He turned to him, his expression serious. "Be straight with me… Are you with her or not?"

Puck stared at him, licked his lips, and glanced away. "No. I…" He blew out a sigh. "Listen, you can't tell Santana or like,_anyone_, okay…?"

He nodded, brows furrowed. "Yeah, dude, nobody."

"I've been seeing Rachel…" At Finn's blank look, he rolled his eyes and added, "The _secretary_."

"Oh. _Ohhh!_" He nodded. "Dude!" He held a fist out for him to bump.

Snorting, Puck bumped it but then shook his head. "Quinn was just helping me out. Santana was being a serious bitch and… Look, if people found out about this, Rachel could lose her job or, I dunno, shit would just blow up in our faces and…" He shrugged. "I really dig her. I kinda wanna see where it could go…"

Finn's eyes widened. "Wow, that's… That's really cool, man."

"Yeah…" He closed his locker. "So… You and Quinn, huh?"

He smiled goofily. "Yeah… I mean, we said it wasn't serious, but I guess I just thought… I was the only one she was with." He shrugged. "When you said you and her were…" He shook his head and blew out a relieved breath. "Guess it just made me realize, y'know? I want more than just casual."

"Good." He clapped his shoulder. "Be good to her." He turned to walk away, calling back. "Remember, _nobody _Finn…"

He nodded.

.o.

Quinn and Finn came out as a couple as February ended and March began.

Santana was suspicious, constantly watching him, thinking he should be jealous or pissed or _something_. He tried to remind her that it was casual, but she wasn't going for it. She was watching him like a hawk. The only thing that saved him was how easily distracted Santana was by Brittany. And how easily Britt could be talked into distracting Santana.

Time was running out though. She wouldn't fall for it forever.

.o.

"Have you talked to Mr. Shuester about those music scholarships?" Rachel wondered, pouring them each a glass of orange juice while they sat at her kitchen table.

Yawning, he shook his head. "Nah. College isn't for me."

She nodded. "I know… But it wouldn't be your usual college experience," she reminded. "You could hone your talents; get a better chance of being heard. It might be easier than just moving town to town, hoping to gain the right ear…" She shrugged. "Something to look into."

He glanced over at her. "Have you thought about hitting the road with me?"

She paused, licking her lips. "Of course I have."

"And?"

She covered his hand in hers. "Noah, there'd be no stability on the road… No guarantee we'd make ends meet…" She half-smiled. "And you've spent a lot more time on your voice than I have. I'm not sure I even have the ability to make it a long-term thing for myself… I mean, yes, I could help you write songs, but…" She shook her head. "What happens when you get a singing contract? If I'm not strong enough then I'm holding you back…" She stared at him searchingly. "And you're only eighteen… Do you really want to tie yourself down with me? If we don't work out, am I still going to be your singing or writing partner?" She frowned. "There are so many questions that we don't have answers to."

His jaw ticked. "You're still doubting us…" He stared at her. "What's it gonna take for you to get that we're _it_…" He folded her hand in his. "Rachel, I love you and I… I wanna do this with you. I wanna _be _with you…" He shook his head. "You gotta stop waiting for that to change."

"I don't know if I can…" She swallowed tightly. "You're young and we shouldn't even be together _now_…" She bit her lip. "What happens when the shine wears off? When we're not hiding anymore? When we have to be out in public?" Her brows furrowed. "You've said it yourself, Noah, I'm _new_ for you. I—I'm not like the other girls in your life... How are you going to feel in a few months when I'm just your average girl; I'm not _off limits_ anymore?"

"It's not gonna change! I'm not with you for some stupid _chase_… I'm with you 'cause you make me happy and because I know I make _you _happy… Because— 'Cause I can actually see myself having a _future _with you." He blew out a heavy breath and shook his head. "Before you, I—I couldn't see _any _future. Except jail or some dead-end job, or hell, maybe I'd die young..." He leaned in, tugging her hand and drawing her over and into his lap. She let him, settling in close, leaning into his chest. "I want more with you. I want _all _of it with you." He stared up into her eyes. "But you gotta want it too."

She nodded and dropped her head to kiss him. "Okay. _Okay_."

He held onto her tightly, arms banded around her, half afraid she'd change her mind and leave him right then.

.o.

They were getting reckless.

Glee was cancelled and Rachel was running late with filing. She met him in the choir room and they got distracted. He had her on the piano, her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands wandering up her thighs. He was so focused on her lips, he almost didn't hear the sounds of voices coming their way.

When Mercedes walked into the room, he'd just barely had time to step out of reach.

"Miss. Berry?" Mercedes asked, brows furrowed as she looked between them.

"Hello," she greeted, hopping down from the piano. "Your glee-mate here was just telling me about Nationals…" She smiled. "I heard you got a solo. That's fantastic!"

Suitably distracted, Mercedes nodded. "Yeah, it was between me and Santana, but I kicked butt at the audition."

"I'm glad to hear that. I think your range is really quite amazing!"

"Thanks!" She smiled and then glanced at Puck, who was trying to hide the bulge in his jeans behind the length of the piano. He scrubbed a hand down his 'hawk and nodded at her vaguely. "Well, I just forgot my bag in here…" She rolled her eyes. "Can't believe Shue cancelled our practice so suddenly." She walked to the chairs and grabbed up her bag. "See you guys later."

"It was nice seeing you. Congratulations on your solo!" Rachel said, waving goodbye.

Puck dropped his forehead to the top of the piano as soon as Mercedes was out of sight.

Rachel swatted his arm. "We need to be more careful!"

"The hell. Why are you hitting _me?_" He frowned. "I'm not the one who whispered she wasn't wearing anything under her dress!" he reminded, wiggling his eyebrows.

She blushed. "Yes, well, that was only because you've had a very colorful influence on me."

He grinned and, walking to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. "C'mon, let's go home… I'll influence you some more."

With a soft laugh, she let him pull her off the piano, legs squeezed around his waist. "Fine. But we still need to be more discreet."

He sighed, but dropped her to her feet and followed after her, a respectable amount of space between them.

He'd make up for it later.

.o.

She read it over twice, staring at the piece of paper in her hands, brow furrowed.

_Last night was perfect. I'll cook tonight. No tofu, I promise! Have a good day! Love you. *_

When she looked up, the choir room was empty.

Puck had dropped it when he left and so sue her, she was a snoop.

Santana tucked it in her jean pocket, suspicions running high.

And she was pretty sure she had a good idea how to prove them.


	6. Part VI

**VI.**

All in all, Santana didn't think three weeks was that long to put her plan in motion. If she maybe got distracted by Brittany,_a lot_, so what. The point was, she was taking apart the Puck mystery one piece at a time and eventually she'd bring it all down on their heads.

Plan A.

She walked down the halls with a sway to her hips. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses; it made her already bangin' body look extra curvy and her legs even longer. Her eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on him.

She leaned back against the bank of lockers next to him, back arched just enough to emphasize her best assets.

"Hey, Puckerman…" She smirked at him, reaching out to drag her finger down the v-neck of his shirt, long nail scraping lightly at his tanned skin.

Puck, brows furrowed, flicked her hand away absently. "What's up, Lopez?" Turning back to his locker, he started putting his books away. Since when did he even _go _to classes?

Her lips pursed at his brush-off, but she wasn't hindered any. "I'm bored and there's a closet free two halls over. You in?"

He paused, turned his head, and raised an eyebrow. "Uh… what?"

Her lips, painted a sultry red, curled at the corners. "You… Me… Closet." Reaching past him, she closed his locker with a bang before she leaned into him and let her arm fall around his shoulder, fingers dragging down the back of his 'hawk. The bristly feel of his hair under her palm was a familiar feeling, though she hadn't done it in years. And she much preferred Brittany's blonde tresses, but she was on a mission.

"Whoa…" He pressed a hand to her hip and pushed her back a few inches. "What're you doing?" He stared at her searchingly.

For a moment, shock flitted across her face. "What's it _look _like?"

He blinked a few times, confusion making his forehead wrinkle. "San, you're with Brittany…" he reminded.

She rolled her eyes. "Since when do you care who anybody's with?"

She wasn't really planning on taking Puck anywhere anyway. She just wanted to prove a point.

Gripping the front of his shirt, she dragged him forward until they were face to face. She tipped her head, letting her hair fall over her shoulders, curling and resting attractively against her enhanced cleavage. "What's a matter, Pucky-Puck? You've gotta be hurting for play since Fabray and Hudson started hooking up again…" Her lip curled in derision at the Inns before fading into a sensual smirk. She nodded her head a little and suggested, "Let Sanny make it better, hm…?"

"Not interested," he said simply, before drawing back from her and frowning. "I dunno what happened with you and Britt, but…" He turned her around and gave her ass a pat. "Go fix it." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Santana scowled.

She didn't know if she should be proud that her plan worked or pissed that he'd actually turned her down.

Sure, she wasn't actually going to sleep with him. _Please_, she had Brittany; she didn't need Puck grunting in her ear when she had sweet lady kisses waiting on her. But still! It was the principle of the matter! _Nobody _turned down Santana Lopez.

.o.

They were having breakfast for dinner, or something like that. He hadn't showered from a shift at Hummel Tires yet, but he was hungry. They were tired of take-out and neither of them really felt like shopping, so she'd looked through her cupboards and eventually found what she needed to make vegan waffles from scratch. And seriously, he thought it'd taste like twice-baked shit, but it was awesome. She even had fresh blueberries and strawberries to put on top. His girlfriend was the best!

"These are better than Eggo's," Puck told her through a mouthful, sawing away at the steaming hot waffle she placed on top of what was left of the other two he'd polished off.

She grinned at him. "While I don't usually think frozen anything is comparable in the first place, I'm going to take that as a compliment."

He nodded. "I _love _Eggo's…" It got him thinking and he sat back suddenly, his brow furrowed. "Used to get in fights at Juvie for 'em…"

She looked at him over her shoulder, her lips pursed. "You were there a few weeks, weren't you?"

His jaw ticked, eyes falling to his plate. "Yeah… Three shitty weeks of hell." He stuffed his mouth full of another bite and chewed, glaring at the table. "Stupid," he muttered, licking syrup from his lip. "Don't even know why I did it."

Rachel walked back to the table and took a seat across from him. "From what you told me, you were pretty messed up after Beth, Noah…" She stared at him searchingly. "And, you know, as much as you hated it, maybe it was what you needed." She lifted a shoulder. "You worked harder to become a better version of yourself after that, didn't you? I mean, yes…" She frowned. "The fear of going back must've been terrible…" She smiled encouragingly. "But in the end, it was what reminded you each day that it was better if you did the right thing, if you thought about the consequences beforehand."

"Yeah…" He shrugged. "Still…" His eyes widened. "They ripped my piercing out, babe… It still hurts sometimes."

She smiled slowly. "Yes, well…" She exchanged her chair in for a seat in his lap. "Since you re-pierced it…" She slid a hand down to rub his pec accordingly, "I think you'll be okay."

He smirked up at her and wiggled his eyebrows. "Nah, I think you should kiss it better."

Rachel laughed, her head falling back. "Maybe after dinner…" She winked at him and stood from his lap to walk back to the waffle-maker. "And after you've showered."

"Or _during _my shower," he suggested.

She smiled back at him.

And he, of course, got his way.

Not that she was complaining any.

.o.

Plan B.

"I call bullshit."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at the Latina girl standing behind her in the mirror as she touched up her lip gloss. "Did you leave a message?"

She rolled her eyes before walking past her and hopping up onto the counter, crossing her legs and peering down at Quinn with a curled lip. "You and Dough-Boy have been doing the nasty for months… Which means Puckerman hasn't been getting between those varicose veined legs like you two said at Regionals…" She shook her head. "So I get why _he_'s covering up, but why are _you?_"

Quinn scoffed, not the least bit intimidated. "What do you _care_, Santana?" She turned her gaze back to her reflection and fixed her hair. "You've got Brittany… Who cares who Puck spends his time with?"

She shoved off the counter and glared. "I worked my ass off in this club, all right, Mommy Thighs?" She shook her head. "I'm not letting him and his overindulged libido get us kicked out of Nationals…" Her eyes narrowed. "So fess up, Fabray. You and Puckerman _weren't_ hooking up, were you?"

Quinn zipped her purse and turned toward her, hip cocked, a dark smirk turning up her lips. "I know loyalty is a foreign concept to you, but listen to me closely…" She leaned in toward her and said, very slowly, "Leave. Puck. _Alone_." She shook her head, her eyebrows hiked. "I don't care who he sleeps with and neither should you… He's smart enough not to get caught and all you're doing is stirring up trouble." She walked past her, bumping her shoulder as she went. "Remember that when it blows up in your face," she called back.

Santana turned to glare at the door as it swung closed with a snap.

Yet another hollow victory.

Yes, this proved she was right and Puck wasn't rocking any beds with Q, but it was also an unfortunate talking-down to all the same. So what if what Quinn said made sense; Puckerman should know better than to lie to her by now. And even if nobody wanted to admit it, if Puck's little tryst with the secretary came out, Sylvester would pitch a fit and throw the ethics book in their faces until they were the last group Nationals would ever let set foot in NYC. And he best believe Santana was getting her ass to New York! She didn't work this hard, this long, not to. No prissy little secretary was going to get in her way.

.o.

Puck woke to Rachel's mouth swallowing him.

"_Fuck!_" His heels dug into the mattress as he fought the urge to thrust up into her mouth. He was already down her throat; he could feel it closing around him every time she swallowed.

His hands tangled in her hair, locking long, dark curls around his fingers.

She drew up, her hands wrapping around his shaft and twisting in opposite directions as she sucked at the head, her tongue swiping back and forth, swirling. He reached past her hair to her shoulders, squeezing, kneading her soft skin.

"Rachel-Rachel-Ra-_Fuck_." He shook his head, breath stuttering from his mouth as she started planting sucking kisses down the underside of his shaft, her hands falling lower, smoothing her thumbs in circles behind his balls.

She nipped at the crease of his hip before dragging her tongue flat against it soothingly.

He looked down at her, naked and beautiful, kneeling between his legs, her hair a tangled mess, her lips swollen and red. As she swallowed him back down her throat, her eyes rose up and met his from beneath long, dark lashes. She stroked him with one hand, every bit of him that wasn't being sucked between her hollowed cheeks and down her fluttering throat.

She kept him on edge, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving with each panted breath. He was babbling shit that didn't make sense and her name, repeatedly. Before finally she held a long, humming note, and he arched off the bed, coming hard. She patted his stomach as she sat back and swallowed, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. "Morning," she said brightly before hopping off the bed and walking to her bathroom, cute little ass bouncing.

He laughed when he heard her electric toothbrush start up.

When his legs stopped shaking, he climbed off her bed and joined her, grabbing her around the waist, grinning as she squealed in laughter, and bringing her to the shower with him where he could return the favor.

.o.

Plan C.

"But I like them."

Santana frowned. "Yeah, I know, but Britt, this is important." She reached for her, hand on her hip, thumb rubbing under her shirt to the soft skin beneath. "All you've gotta do is get her to sign something…" She stared at her searchingly. "Can you do that?"

Brittany turned her eyes away before pursing her lips in a pout. "But she's _nice_ and she always asks about Lord Tubbington and Puck is _happy _and I think we should just let him have his Brittany."

Santana's brows furrowed. "His _what?_"

"You're girl-Puck and Miss. Berry is Puck's shiny unicorn… Or bi-corn. I don't know." She smiled. "She's pretty."

Shaking her head, Santana took her hand and silently hoped her girlfriend would focus. "Listen, you wanna win Nationals, right?"

Brittany nodded.

"Okay, then… Just get Secretary Sex-Scandal's John Hancock, all right?"

She blinked. "I thought she was a girl."

"Her _signature_, Britt. Just get her to sign something, _anything_."

"Even my boobs?"

"No. Not—Not your boobs, okay?" She rolled her eyes. "We talked about that. Only San plays with the goodies."

Brittany smiled before twirling back and forth at the hips. "Okay, but I want a lady-kiss."

Santana grinned. "You can have two."

.o.

"What're you doing here?"

Puck turned around at the familiar voice. Hands in his pockets as he waited boredly in the parking lot, he frowned at the sudden appearance of his girlfriend. "Uh, it's _Temple_, whattya think I'm doin'?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I thought you went to the _other _temple…" She shook her head meaningfully.

"Oh, yeah, no." He shrugged. "My ma and sister do. My nana comes here though." He pointed his thumb back at the synagogue. "I like to go with her sometimes."

"She—She isn't nearby, is she?" Rachel started fiddling with her clothes, smoothing them out as though they were wrinkled, which they weren't. Her eyes darted to and fro. "I'm not even wearing make-up," she muttered.

"You look hot," he encouraged.

Rachel blew out an exasperated breath. "Noah, I hardly think your nana cares if I look _hot_."

He shrugged. "Nana Connie would like you."

"Really?" she worried.

"Yeah." He nodded, grinning. "You're Jewish and you've never been arrested. You also don't sleep around and didn't have my baby at sixteen; so really, you've got top marks so far."

She laughed, shaking her head at him.

"Who's this?" a sharp voice interrupted.

Rachel's eyes widened as she went very still. When she turned her head, it was to find a stern looking woman gauging her with hawk eyes that looked very much like Noah's, aside from that fact that his always gazed at her with affection and attraction. This woman, with her grey hair tightly wound in a bun on her head, and her lips pursed, looked more like someone who wanted very much to crush her like a tiny, bothersome bug.

"Uh, this is Miss. Berry. She's a secretary at McKinley."

"You're Jewish?" she asked shrewdly.

"Nana," Puck laughed. "She's at _Temple_. S'not like she snuck in 'cause she was bored."

"Don't back-talk," Connie snipped.

Rachel fidgeted. "I— Yes, I'm Jewish," she replied. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

Connie looked her up and down, lips still pursed. "Nice child-rearing hips this one." She reached out and squeezed her side. "Too skinny though." She raised her eyes to her once more. "You're a smart girl, Miss Berry?"

"I—I am." She nodded. "Top of my class."

"And just a secretary?" she wondered, brow quirked.

Rachel took offense. "I happen to enjoy my job! And I think it's rude to assume that just because I didn't take my education to a level where I might be paid more or appreciated better that my job is anything to scoff at. I supply a service that is necessary, ma'am." She put her hands to her 'child-rearing' hips and lifted her chin stubbornly.

"I like this one," Connie decided. "She's got _chutzpah_." She shook her head. "Not like that _shiksa _you knocked up."

"Nana!" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Hush, bubbala," she said dismissively. "It was a _compliment_."

"Oh, I… I work at Noah's school. He was only being cordial," Rachel interrupted, shaking her head.

Connie looked at her with an amused sort of smile. "That's my Noah," she said, shaking her head. "So _cordial_, this one."

Rachel glanced at him, frowning. But he shrugged, he really couldn't argue that; polite wasn't usually in his vocabulary.

"Well, I'm off. I have Bridge with the ladies tonight." Connie nodded at her in farewell before turning to Noah and tapping her cheek.

Half-smiling, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

With a clap to his shoulder, she waved her hands. "Thank you for coming out tonight. Now go. _Gay avek_. Keep this young lady thinking you're good and polite." She wagged a finger at him. "_Husband_ material, bubbala." She nodded at him before looking once more at a now blushing Rachel, and then finally walked off, meeting up with a group of gossiping older ladies.

"Well, that was… awkward," Rachel sighed, shifting foot to foot.

"Yeah, but she's got the right idea." He winked at her. "Whattya say I meet you at home? I'll pick up a movie or something."

"That'd be lovely." She turned on her heel and then paused to look back at him. "Noah, I'm not too skinny am I?"

Puck tipped his head, grinning at her. "You're perfect."

She smiled softly, ducking her head so her hair fell over her flushed cheeks. "Forget the movie," she told him. "Just bring you."

So he did.

.o.

She laid on her back, sideways across her bed in nothing but his t-shirt, her head propped atop her arm.

He was sprawled out, back against the headboard, wearing his unbuttoned jeans, his 'hawk askew, guitar in his lap, legs crossed at the ankle, bare feet moving along with the beat.

She watched his long fingers move along the strings; he had such beautiful hands.

As his voice reached out, her eyes moved up to his face, watching his lips.

_There was hope…  
>There was faith…<em>

He licked his lips, head shaking.

_There was truth but I just couldn't get it…_

His eyes met hers, lips quirked in a smile.

_Now there's love in my life,_  
><em>Can't let it go I just won't let it…<em>

He tipped his head, his brow furrowed deeply.

_Change has played its part…_

He closed his eyes and his voice touched her so deeply in her heart that it ached.

_And it's healed my wounded heart…_

She inhaled deeply and watched as his expression followed his lyrics; this song that he penned especially for her.

A song that moved him and touched him and spoke of things he had a hard time verbalizing.

_All I wanna do…  
>Alll I wanna be…<br>All I wanna feel is somethin' real…_

His eyes met hers and her hand fell against her chest, gripping the fabric that sat above her heart.

_I want to believe…  
>That everything I do…<br>From here on out will be…_

His hand paused against his guitar and just his voice filled her ears.

_With you…_

As he started strumming again, Rachel turned over and crawled up the bed.

His legs parted and lifted and she knelt between them, resting her chin on his upturned knee.

He stared down at her, his fingers moving a little quicker against his guitar.

_Here with you…  
>I feel safe…<br>And I know this is just the beginning…  
>For so long I was lost,<br>Now it feels I'm finally winning…_

As he broke out in the chorus again, Rachel swayed, taking his leg along with her, letting her eyes fall to half-mass and a smile curve her lips.

She watched his fingers, moving quicker, moving so intricately and intimately across the strings.

His voice, deeper, stronger, drew her eyes to his face.

_I wouldn't mind…  
>I could love you for the rest of my life…<em>

Rachel swallowed tightly at the sincerity in his face.

_Cause all I wanna do…  
>All I wanna be…<br>All I wanna feel is somethin' real…  
>I want to believe<br>That everything I do…  
>From here on out it's gonna be…<em>

_It's gonna be with you…_

His eyes never left hers as he finished out the last of the song.

_It's gonna be with you…  
>Now that I found you…<br>I'm never gonna let you go,  
>Never gonna let you go away…<br>You're mine…  
>I need you…<br>Yeah, oh, I need you,  
>I love you, I do…<br>Yeah, no, no-ooo…_

Finally, he let his fingers dance over the last few strings and sound faded away.

Rachel felt silly that she was so emotional, but her eyes stung and her heart felt like it was thick in her throat.

She climbed up the bed, hands falling to either side of his hips, pressing down against the mattress and holding her up as she leaned across his guitar to him. Her mouth slanted over his, slowly, deeply. He slid the guitar out from between them and drew her up closer, her knees sliding over his legs and straddling his waist.

"I love you," she said against his mouth, kissing him before he could reply. "I love you, Noah." She slid her hands around his neck and curled her fingers in the end of his 'hawk. He slid his hands, rough and warm, up her back, beneath the cover his t-shirt. He stripped it up and off her and tossed it away before his fingers were walking over her skin, tracing the line of her back and the soft curves at her sides.

And when he laid her back on the bed and he sunk inside her, her breath caught and their eyes met, and she wondered if it would be too much to ask that she always have this feeling; this love in her life; this _man_.

Apparently, it was.

.o.

Plan C (Part 2)

Brittany bounced into the office with a bright smile.

"Hey Miss. Berry," she said, before dropping a notebook in front of her on top of the counter.

"Hello Brittany," Rachel replied, standing from her desk. "And how may I help you today?"

"Do you have anything that might get my cat off ecstasy?" she wondered, brow furrowed prettily.

Rachel blinked. "I… No, I… Unfortunately, I can't say I do…" She rested her chin in her hand. "How is Lord Tubbington though? Aside from his apparent drug addiction, I mean."

Brittany's eyes fell. "Well, he's put on a lot of weight and he's losing patches of fur and he's been very cranky lately. But I think that might be because I put him on a diet. Only three pixie sticks a day." She sighed. "It'd be difficult for anyone."

Rachel nodded very slowly. "I'm sure it would be."

She brightened. "Will you sign my notebook?" she wondered.

Rachel looked down at the book and then back at her. "I'm sorry?"

"Puck already signed all the cracks." She opened the book to show her Noah's familiar writing of, "Signed your crack," down the center of every single page. That man put a lot of attention on odd things sometimes, she had to admit. Still, she smiled. Even his peculiarities were unusually adorable.

"And may I ask why you're taking signatures?" she wondered.

Brittany shrugged. "I don't want to wait for Yearbooks."

Rachel nodded. While she didn't really think it was necessary, it _was _Brittany, and if she'd learned anything about the flighty but friendly blonde, it was that she had lived her life according to her own set of logic. She couldn't fault her for it. So, she turned the book around and signed with a flourish.

"_I hope Lord Tubbington pulls through._

_It was a pleasure meeting you, Brittany._

_I wish you all the best in your future endeavors!_

_Sincerely,_

_Miss.__ Berry*, secretary_"

Brittany took it back with a smile. "Thanks."

"Absolutely." She lifted a brow. "Will there be anything else?"

She shook her head before turning and backing up. She paused at the door though and turned back to her with a very solemn, serious expression. "Puckleberry will pull through," she told her. "I know it."

And with that, the odd girl was gone, and Rachel was once again wondering what in the world she was talking about.

.o.

Santana stared at Brittany's notebook with narrowed eyes.

More importantly, she stared at the little star Berry signed her name with.

She held up the note she'd found of Puck's and compared the two.

And finally a very devious smile crossed her lips.

.o.

"Hey!" he said, appearing in her office suddenly.

Rachel smiled, twirling in her chair. "Hello."

"So guess what?" He flashed his eyebrows at her.

She tipped her head, long hair draped over her shoulder. "What?"

He shrugged. "It's kinda our eight month anniversary."

She raised a brow. "Noah, we got together on New Year's…"

"Yeah, but we _met _in September and I've been after you _since _then…" He paused, counting on his fingers to double check. "So, yeah, eight months."

She smiled. "Fine. I still say it's been three, but if you want to count technicalities..."

"Totally." He handed over his gift, wrapped in newspaper.

She stood from her seat, a curious smile tilting her lips. "What's this?"

He shrugged. "Happy Anniversary."

She reached out and plucked the tape off the middle. The paper parted and she reached inside to find a stack of lined sheet paper. Her brows furrowed until she read the top. _Composed and Performed by: Noah Puckerman & Rachel Berry_.

"_Oh_…" She looked up at him, stars in her eyes. "Noah, you… You didn't have to do this."

"This is me showing you that this is what I want." He tapped the top. "You'll be my partner, Rach… For singing and writing and just… In _everything_." He stared at her searchingly. "Okay?"

She gazed down at the paper with teary eyes. "Yes."

He grinned, and then, ignoring the fact that they were in a busy school, he leaned across and pecked her lips quickly. "To another awesome eight months, babe."

She pressed him back by his chest and shook her head, though a smile couldn't be helped. "You're going to get us caught."

He shrugged and started back out of the office.

She mouthed, _Love you_, and he winked at her in reply.

They were gonna make it.

He just knew it.

.o.

Rachel didn't know what to do or say when she looked up to see Santana Lopez staring at her.

"Can I help you?" she asked slowly, her heart seeming to slow in her chest.

The Latina had a very calculating look on her face; suspicious and possibly out for blood. While Rachel didn't know her well, she was sure that it was an apt description. It might have been colored by some of Noah's previous stories about his friends and various ex-girlfriends. If she remembered correctly, she believed he called Santana his 'loco' ex-friend with benefits, and she'd been the one to not so subtly point out that she thought something was different with Noah. Rachel was fairly sure Santana knew what that difference was, and wasn't so easily distracted by the decoy.

"Listen Yentl—" She paused. "Can I call you Yentl?"

Rachel frowned. "_No_, you _can't_."

She continued, completely ignoring her, "I don't know what _perverse _game you and Puckerman are playing, but I'm not letting his libido gets in the way of our Nationals win…" She stared at her darkly, brows heavy over his eyes. "Now I admit, maybe I was a little hasty going for a public reveal." She shrugged, drumming her blood red nails against the counter. "I like drama and I don't like being lied to." She raised a brow. "But I've thought it over… I'm not telling Shue or Figgins or Coach Sylvester." She shrugged a shoulder dismissively. "I won't even let the rest of the club in on this juicy little tale of high school porn…"

Rachel held her breath, staring at the girl with undisguised worry.

"But your little trip on the Puckerone Express ends _here_." She stabbed a finger down meaningfully. "_¿Entiendes?_"

"I—I don't know what it is you're trying to _imply_ here…" Her eyes darted around, concerned somebody might overhear. "But I am _not _engaging in anything _illicit _with any student…"

"Listen Babs," she said, leaning forward with a snide smile. "Puck won't walk away from easy play, so you're gonna have to do the breaking up here… He thinks too much with his dick and he forgets that this little _mistake _between you two could cost us big…" She nodded. "So you're gonna break it to him simple-like. You're _done_." She stared at her seriously. "And if you don't, I'm gonna sacrifice Puck for the rest of us and you're gonna come out lookin' like a pedo-tary. Gots me?"

She swallowed tightly, staring searchingly until finally she closed her eyes and stiffly nodded her head.

"Good." Turning on her heel, Santana wiggled her fingers behind her in farewell and left the office, smug with her win.

Rachel quickly informed Principal Figgins that she needed to use the restroom, before sliding to the floor of the staff bathroom and sobbing into her hands for ten solid minutes straight.

.o.

Rachel paced her apartment, her hands wringing as she waited for them to pick up.

"Berry residence!" they chimed simultaneously. They sighed. "Leroy/Hiram, I got it. No, _I _have it. Ugh, you always do this!"

"_Dads! _Please," she asked, shaking her head. "I need to speak to both of you anyway."

"Rachel, honey!"

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Shh, let her speak!"

"I am! Rachel, sweetie, talk to us."

"I just… I—I _need_…" She sniffled.

"That's it! I'm getting the keys!"

"I'll pack snacks for the ride!"

She laughed, rolling her eyes slightly. "No, no, it's okay… You don't have to come out here."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course she's not! Clearly she's hysterical!"

"Do you want us to bring you anything? Tea? Soup? Are you sick? We could bring your nana's quilt, if you want."

She inhaled deeply, taking comfort in their concern. "I'm not sick. I—I don't need you to come out here. I just… I feel that I need some advice."

"Oh… Okay."

"We're listening."

"Do you remember…?" She licked her trembling lips, reconsidering. "Okay, do you remember when I used to talk to you about a boy, a—a _student, _who was being very… charming and frequently asked me out on dates?"

"Of course, dear. Puck, wasn't it?"

"What an awful name. I hope you mentioned Midsummer's Night to him."

She giggled. "I did. He didn't care for the likeness."

"Well what happened? What did he do?"

"Nothing. He… He didn't do _anything _wrong. I… It was _me_," she said, brows furrowed. "I'm older. I'm the adult. I—I'm supposed to be in control and—and I'm the one who should've known better. I—" She shook her head, dropping her face as it crumbled emotionally. "Oh dads, I was so, _so _reckless and I… I screwed up. I just… I've never felt so…" She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. "He made me feel _so_…"

"What? What did he make you feel, Bunny?"

She inhaled deeply, shakily. "_Loved_." She sniffled. "An—And _happy_."

"Oh Rachel…" her daddy sighed knowingly.

"Tell us everything," Hiram encouraged.

She gulped deep breaths and sat down on her couch. "It—It was harmless at first… He just… He _flirted _and I—I was_adamant _that nothing could come of it. But he was _there_, every day, every morning, every lunch, and he just…" She leaned her head back, casting her eyes up as she sighed softly. "He talked and he listened and he remembered all of these sweet things; these _little _things… You know?"

She closed her eyes and felt tears dribble down her cheeks. "But I remained unmoved. I told myself that it was wrong; he was a student and I was the secretary and there was no way, no _possible _way, that it could be considered okay… And I—I tried dating. There was that very nice substitute teacher, you remember? But…" She rubbed her nose. "It wasn't the same. It wasn't… _enough_."

She swallowed tightly. "And then, he sent me this card, on Hanukkah, and all it said, a promise really, that he would make me _happy_… And I believed him. I… I risked it all. My job, my—my _heart_…" She swiped at her damp eyes. "I met him on New Year's and I knew I shouldn't have, but it was so…" She breathed out, lips curling in a smile. "It was so_perfect_. We sang together and I just—I felt _alive _for the first time in my life. Like I was _meant_ to be on that stage, I was_meant _to be there with him… So I—I stopped questioning it. I told myself that something that felt that right _couldn't _be wrong. And we… We began a relationship. We—"

She blew out a breath and shook her head. "We kept it quiet, but… There's a girl, in his class, and she… She _knows _and she says that if I don't break up with him, if I don't stop this, she'll expose us… She'll tell everyone…" She licked her lips and sat forward. "And I know what the logical thing to do is. I _do_. But…"

"You love him."

She nodded, inhaling shakily. "I _do_. I really do." She rubbed her forehead, where her brows had knotted and were beginning to hurt. "I… I just need you to tell me— Just _tell me_ that it's the right thing to do… Tell me to leave him."

"This boy… Rachel, how old is he?" Leroy wondered.

"Eighteen. But that… That doesn't _excuse_ anything."

"Of course not. It—It's _completely _unprofessional of you."

She pressed a hand to her heart as it panged her for disappointing him.

"I know. I know it is. I—I'm so sorry," she cried. "Please, _please _don't hate me for this."

"Rachel, we could _never_—"

"—_ever_ hate you."

She blew out a relieved breath, nodding to herself.

"And we can't tell you what to do here."

Her narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What? _Why?_"

"Because if we do, you're not making the decision yourself." Hiram sighed. "One day, you might look back at this and feel like we forced you to leave this boy, or _man_ that you felt you loved… Or maybe you won't. But what's important is that you make this decision yourself. That you know what you do or don't do is right because _you _did it. Only _you_ really know if this person is worth any of this… We don't know him. We don't know the whole story, because I'm _sure _you left things out… And we appreciate that."

She laughed.

"Rachel, I think you know what the right thing to do would be. And I think you'll do it in the end. I just hope that whatever you choose, you're happy in the end."

She nodded. "Okay… I—I will be. I promise."

"Now, are you sure you don't want us to come out? I can bring Nana's quilt, some movies, a bottle of wine. Oh, we could make a weekend of it!"

"It's Wednesday," Leroy reminded him.

"Hush. Our daughter needs us. If I want to take a weekend in the middle of the week, I will!"

Rachel chuckled. "Thank you both. But I don't think it'll be necessary."

"If you change your mind, you call us!"

She smiled. "I will."

"We love you!"

"Love you, bunny!"

"Love you too. I'll talk to you again soon. Okay. Bye."

Hanging her phone up, Rachel buried her face in her hands and took a long, deep breath.

Wiping her face clear of tears, she knew what she had to do. And she stood with a heavy heart to do just that.

.o.

Puck frowned when she opened the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and she looked like she'd been crying.

"The hell's wrong?" he asked, reaching out for her.

She shook her head, her lips trembling, and, not saying a word, she simply wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked her back into her apartment, closing the door behind him.

It was a school night, which meant he couldn't stay over, but he still had a few hours before his curfew.

Rachel's fingers dragged down his 'hawk and though her body was shaking and she was still sniffling, she pressed her mouth to his neck, just beneath his ear.

"I want you," was all she said.

It was enough.

He didn't know what was wrong but if this would make it better, he'd do it. And yeah, it wasn't like it'd be hard for him. But he was also shit with crying chicks, so he was kind of relieved that this was her answer. 'Cause he could do this and not fuck it up.

He carried her back to her bedroom and settled her down on the bed as he worked to get her out of her little pencil skirt and her flowery blouse. They hit the floor along with her bra and her thong, until she was kneeling on the bed in nothing. She reached for him and dragged him closer by his shirt. His hands smoothed over her hips and down to cup her ass, squeezing and kneading.

Puck loved foreplay. He loved spending a long time just exploring her. Rachel had miles and miles of soft skin and he loved to touch and kiss and drag his teeth over every damn part. Only she wasn't interested in that now. She stripped his shirt off him and worked at his jeans, shoving them down his hips, quick and fast. Suddenly, he was on the bed and she was the one doing all the exploring. And when he tried to turn the tables, she distracted him.

He didn't get it. She was the one hurting, he thought she wanted him to make her feel better; to touch her and stroke her and lick her until she was screaming his name and whatever was hurting her was the last thing on her mind. But her lips were charting a path from his ribs down his stomach, nose nuzzling every ridge of his abdomen, tongue tracing his hip bones, teeth grazing, nipping. And her hands were rubbing along his chest, fingers curling, lightly tickling his ribs before sliding higher, thumb flicking and playing with his nipple ring.

She'd done this before; she'd spent hours playfully searching his whole body for places he was ticklish or just hell bent on kissing every damn inch of him. And that'd been fun and lighthearted and seriously hot at some points. But this felt hurried and thick with something else, something she wasn't telling him. He wanted to push her for information, for what was bugging her. But then she had his dick in her mouth and he fucking forgot. Rachel was talented and she didn't have a gag reflex so sometimes he was just in _awe _of her. Well, more than usual anyway.

When she straddled his waist and sunk down on him, having already rolled the condom on herself, he was stuck in that mindless state of just wanting and needing to fuck and be fucked. He forgot to worry, to wonder. Instead he focused on gripping her hips in his hands and encouraging her to move as she lifted up on her knees, fluttering and clutching at him, wet and hot and so damn tight. Her nails scraped at his stomach, dug into his forearms; she clawed at him as she rode him. At some point, she was leaning across him, a change of angle bringing her closer to climax, and she dug her nails in so deep at his chest, she drew a few spots of blood. He was too gone to care at the time. Later, he'd think it was kind of hot.

She let him take over after she came the first time, crying out hoarsely, her movements becoming sharp and out of sync, her head thrown back and her mouth left wide open.

She let him push her back onto the bed and take her tits into his mouth, teeth and tongue paying extra attention to her stiff little nipples, swirling and sucking and plucking until she was pulling him closer and pushing him away at the same time.

She didn't fight for dominance when he drew her knees up to her chest as he knelt, sliding in and out of her, hard and deep. She just held on and pleaded, "Harder, Noah. Harder."

And when she was right on the edge and he pulled out, he smirked as she cursed, her hands clutching the blanket beneath her. And then his mouth was on her, tongue stroking, nose pressing against her clit, lips suckling. He teased her, chuckling when her fingers yanked at what little hair he had, knees clamping around his head. He sunk two fingers inside her and moved them nice and slow as he licked her all around, drawing circles and words and his name against her folds.

When she couldn't take it anymore, he drilled his tongue inside her and rubbed her clit with his thumb. And when she came, spilling into his mouth, he wiped his face on her stomach and slid up the bed, sliding back inside her. She cried out, her hands clutching at his hips. Her face said she was somewhere between pleasure and pain, maybe a little too sensitive, but then she wrapped her legs around him and pressed her lips to his. She rocked her hips and bit his lip, dragging her nails down his back until he started moving again.

His mouth was buried at her neck when he came, teeth scraping against her collar bone. She wasn't far behind him, breathing his name out as she arched off the bed and clenched all around him.

For a long time, he couldn't move. His cheek was stuck to her shoulder, sweaty and slick, and his whole damn body was just _dead_. Limp and tired and exhausted. Eventually though, he managed to drag himself off her. He tossed the condom away and cleaned up in the bathroom. She was lying exactly where he'd left her, her arm tossed over her face. Her body was tensed though, her chest heaving jaggedly like she was trying not to cry.

"Rach?"

She shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she wiped at her face quickly and offered him a broken smile.

He laid back down on the bed with her and drew her over to him. She fell against him, her arm wrapping around his waist. But she didn't tell him what the hell was wrong. Instead, she pressed a few sloppy kisses to his chest and then buried her face there. "Just hold me," she asked.

So he did; he stroked her hair and her back and he rubbed her shoulders until she drifted off.

He fell asleep not long after.

Only to be woken up a little while later when Rachel wanted another round.

She still wasn't telling him anything, but she kept him going until long after his curfew had come and gone.

The last time, before he eventually had to climb out of her bed and get home so his ma wouldn't tear his head off, was slow. It wasn't hard and desperate. It was more like the first time they were together.

She made love with him.

Even if she was still sad, still a little broken, she held on to him and moved with him and filled in all the long, slow pauses with lingering, deep kisses. She let him have his fun then, exploring her body, kissing her from the tip of her toes to the backs of her knees to the ticklish spot on her ribs and up, up, to her neck and her lips, her nose, her eyelids, behind her ears, the nape of her neck, the pads of her fingers, the small of her back, all of her.

And when he left her room, she was curled up and snoring softly, her hair a crazy, tangled mess, her face buried in her pillow. She was beautiful, wrapped in a white sheet, one of her long, bare legs lying atop it. He almost didn't care what his ma might do to him, wanting to stick around and wake up with her. But it was late and he had to drop Becca off at school before heading to his own. So he dragged his tired body out the door and told himself he'd find out what was wrong tomorrow. And he wouldn't let her distract him then.

.o.

Puck knew Santana's smirk could only mean bad things.

And since she was directing it at him whenever possible, he was worried.

When she sauntered over to him, he waited for the fall out. "What d'you want?" he grunted.

She smiled. "Me? Nothing. But since you're not sobbing in a corner, I guess she either didn't mean much or she's hoping I won't follow through and still hasn't cut the cord…" She raised a brow. "So? How's your girlfriend, Pucky Puck?"

He frowned. "I told you… Me and Quinn were casual. She's with Hudson now."

Santana rolled her eyes dismissively. "Don't feed me that bull. I know you've been plucking the secretary's berry."

He waved a hand, shushing her. "Hey, whoa, keep it down."

She scoffed. "Since _when _do you care who hears about your epic scoring?" She snorted. "The secretary, Puck? I mean, sure, she has a sweet, innocent, big schnozzed appeal… And yeah, getting it on right under Figgin's nose, almost getting caught is always hot. But risking the club like that?" She shook her head, brows furrowed angrily. "If Coach Sylvester found out, she'd find a way to use it against us. At the very _least _she'd get you kicked out of our club, if not _expelled_…" She stared at him searchingly. "We _need _you to win Nationals. Not only to pad our roster, but because you can actually_sing_… And now that you're writing one of our songs for us, we need you even more. Is this chick really _worth _all that?"

He licked his lips. "Listen… I love Glee, okay? And everybody in there is my friend. I want us to win Nationals and I wanna rub it in all these douchtards faces that we rock…" He shook his head. "But if anybody should get why this, why _Rachel_, matters to me this much, it's _you_."

She raised a brow, confused.

"San… Before Brittany, you were _just _like me… But she made you _better_," he reminded. "She made you _happy_…"

"You're comparing _Britt _to your little fling with the secretary?"

"It's not a fling," he said seriously. "What I feel when I'm with her isn't like anything I've ever felt with anybody else…" He reached out and squeezed her shoulders, drawing her eyes to his. "San, you've known me practically my whole life…" He hiked his brows meaningfully. "I love her."

Slowly, Santana's angry, disbelieving expression began to fade. Her eyes fell and she finally sighed. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she lifted her chin and said, "Fine. Tell your little midget I won't rat her out; she can call off the dumping."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "I stopped by the office yesterday to chat with the hobbit and tell her that if she didn't drop your ass, I was gonna out her to the school." She shrugged. "Apparently she wanted to see if I was bluffing. I _wasn't_. But since you're being a sap and I get the feeling you'd ditch us at Nationals for her, I'm waving the white flag." She waved a hand around dismissively. "Word to the wise though, you might wanna cut down on the PDA and singing those god-awful love songs in glee, or others might start to notice how _nauseatingly _whipped you are."

Nodding, Puck started backing up. "I gotta go."

"You're _welcome_," Santana shouted after him. "_Desagradecido pendejo!_"

Ignoring her, he raced through the hallway, dodging students, bumping into a few, before he finally stumbled into the office. His heart was beating hard in his chest as he walked to the counter. He saw dark hair and breathed a sigh of relief, but the person who turned around to greet him wasn't Rachel. Same general build, but older.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Ra—" He caught himself and ground his teeth. "Miss. Berry? Usual secretary… Where's she at? I need to talk to her."

"I'm a temp," she said, shrugging. "I was hired until they find a replacement. Last secretary quit."

Rapidly, Puck's face fell, his heart lodging in his stomach, hard and heavy. For a second, he actually thought he might upchuck.

"Can I help you?"

"No."

Shaking his head, his heart pounding in his ears, he turned on his heel and left the office. Not thinking about the rest of school, he walked right out the doors and jogged across the parking lot to his truck. He ignored Finn who was shouting after him. He ignored everything. Desperately, he sped down the road, destination Rachel's apartment.

.o.

Rachel listened to the angry buzzing of her comm. from where she sat at her laptop. She flinched the first two times he jabbed it and closed her eyes at the long, shrill cry for attention that followed.

"Rachel!" he shouted outside, and she knew if she looked out her window, she would see him. And he would be hurt and angry and scared. She couldn't face that.

"I know you're home!"

This is right thing to do, she told herself.

_It's right._

_It's right._

_It's right._

She would find another job. One where she _wouldn't _fall in love with the wrong person. Where she wouldn't risk anything. Something safe and easy. Something that made sense. Not a young musician that made her forget all of her sadness, all of the unfulfilling details of her everyday life. A man whose touch made her feel more alive than anything she'd ever known. A man whose voice touched her soul and her heart and woke them up after a lifetime of avoiding them.

"I'm not giving up on you!" he yelled. "Santana's gonna keep her trap shut, I promise, okay? Just please—_Please_, answer the door."

She tucked her earbuds in and turned up her music until her ears ached with it.

_It's right_, she lied to herself.


	7. Part VII

**VII.**

Rachel found a job a week later, even as she considered moving back to Westerville and starting over under the comforting guide of her parents. She buried herself in looking for work, something that would remind her of who she was before Noah had come into her life. Knowing his schedule made it a little easier. She was home when she knew he couldn't be around; that he would be in school or working for Burt or watching Becca. And when he had free time, she made a point of being anywhere he wouldn't be.

The job she found used her secretarial skills while keeping her away from the public, which she deemed necessary. She didn't want to interact with people; she didn't want to set eyes on any handsome young dream-seeker out to change her life. She wanted to work and go home and repeat. That was it.

Only as much as she tried to tell herself that was what she wanted, she felt wrong; awkward; like something was missing.

She woke up each morning and went through her regular routine but there was no enthusiasm there. Every morning she went for a jog and she ran until her legs hurt and her stomach climbed up into her throat. She ran as far as her body would take her, until she didn't feel the scream welling up inside her anymore. And then she went home and she would pretend she didn't notice the frozen meat in her freezer that she kept on hand for him. Or his favorite beer on the shelf in the fridge. His mixed CDs on her stereo. His leftover sheet music in her bedside table. His shampoo in her shower. The clippers she bought to help him with his 'hawk. His toothbrush next to hers. His favorite cereal in her cupboard. The movies he'd brought over that she still watched sometimes, despite hating violence, and cried herself to sleep wearing a shirt of his that still smelled like him.

She still reached for him when she woke.

She went to sleep each night in a bed that felt too big and too cold.

She somehow related to every damn song on the radio; happy, sad, love, hate. It wasn't until she started to agree with Ke$ha that she knew she had to stop.

So she packed up his things, every single item in her house that reminded her of him, and she placed it in a box on her table.

She would bring it to him tomorrow. Or, if she happened to be busy, and she had a thousand excuses just waiting for that very reason, she would do it the day after. Which sounded much, much better to her.

.o.

He was pathetic. He knew that.

He called her every change he got, leaving messages he was pretty sure she just deleted without listening to.

He stopped by her apartment a few times and stabbed the buzzer with no response.

He looked for her in every brunette.

Every time his cell rang, he hoped.

He read and re-read every note she'd ever given him and he told himself that it wasn't a lie.

But when she didn't call and she never buzzed him in, he let that bitterness grow.

He penned song after song, scratching out her name at the top. But every song was about her, about needing and wanting her, about missing what they'd had and who he thought he could be.

He'd already had a lifetime of wanting and needing and not having.

He was tired of it.

.o.

She threw herself into her work; she hardly lifted her head from the stack of paper in front of her.

It filled the void.

She told herself she was happy; she was content.

Order and security could fulfill her.

But whenever she paused, whenever she took a breath and assessed her life, her situation…

She was empty.

.o.

Two weeks.

Hadn't seen hide or hair of her in two damn weeks.

Instead of getting better, he felt like it was getting worse.

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all was an asshole. A giant, _wrong, _asshole.

"Puck, any chance we might be able to hear that song you're writing for Nationals?" Mr. Shue asked, raising a brow at him.

Sitting, arms crossed over his chest, staring distantly at nothing in particular, Puck startled at the sudden interruption. "What?"

"Your song?"

"It's not done," he said, shaking his head. "It's rough."

Him and Rachel had been working on something but he hadn't touched it since. He had something else going, but he wasn't sure it was right for Nationals.

"Well, let's hear what you got," he suggested.

He frowned, but grabbed up his bag and dug inside for his sheet music. Climbing off his chair, he walked down and over to Brad, dropping the pages, filled with scratch outs, off with him. Walking back to the stool sitting up front and center, he cleared his throat as he sat down, leaving his bag at his feet while his eyes glanced over the waiting group.

Mr. Shue nodded, walking to take a seat with the others.

Puck's fingers moved along with the beat as Brad began, tapping at his knees.

Licking his lips, he leaned forward, his shoulders hunched, as he sang.

_Falling a thousand feet per second…_  
><em>You still take me by surprise…<em>  
><em>I just know we can't be over,<em>  
><em>I can see it in your eyes…<em>

He dropped his gaze to the floor, his jaw ticking.

_Making every kind of silence,_  
><em>Takes a lot to realize…<em>  
><em>It's worse to finish than to start all over and,<em>  
><em>Never let it lie…<em>

He swallowed tightly.

_And as long as I can feel you holding on…  
>I won't fall…<em>  
><em>Even if you said I was wrong…<em>

He hands balled into fists as he leaned back, shaking his head as his voice rang out from a dark, painful part of his heart.

As he remembered how hard he tried in the beginning; how he never stopped until he got her.

_I'm not perfect, but I keep trying…  
>'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start,<br>I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave…  
>Was it something I said or just my personality?<em>

When he opened his eyes, Santana was staring at him, her brows furrowed, her hand gripping Brittany's tight.

_Making every kind of silence,_  
><em>It takes a lot to realize…<em>  
><em>It's worse to finish than to start all over and,<em>  
><em>Never let it lie…<em>

His brows furrowed.

_And as long as I can feel you holding on…  
>I won't fall…<br>Even if you said I wrong,_  
><em>I know that…<em>

He broke out into the chorus again and pressed a hand to his chest, rocking his shoulders back and forth along with the beat.

_When you're caught in a lie,_  
><em>And you've got nothing to hide,<em>  
><em>When you've got nowhere to run,<em>  
><em>And you've got nothing inside…<em>

He turned to look back at her again, his head shaking.

_It tears right through me,_  
><em>You thought that you knew me…<em>  
><em>You thought that you knew…<em>

Santana raised her chin but turned her eyes away.

His voice softened as he sang the chorus, though it was almost all that could be heard as the piano slowed to a faint tinkling behind him.

His balled fists pressed against his lap as he leaned forward and sang deeper, the music picking up behind him.

_I'm not perfect, but I keep trying,  
>'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start,<br>I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave,_

As his anger started to show, his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed to a glare.

_Was it something I said or just my,_  
><em>Just myself…<em>

And he thought of her.

Of how awesome it'd been before the shit hit the fan.

How happy he'd been.

_Just myself…_

And he hated how much he felt; his heart actually fucking hurt.

He hated that she mattered so damn much.

_Myself…_

That Santana had to get in their business.

That they couldn't have met a year later, when he was out of school.

That she couldn't stick around and fight for them.

_Just myself…_

His throat burned as he sang out the last line he'd written.

_I'm not perfect, but I keep trying…_

Mr. Shue clapped and a few others did too, slowly, uncertainly.

Santana shook her head. "Puck…"

"I can't do this," he decided. He stood from his stool, his hands shaking as he scooped up his bag and hooked it over his shoulder. He swallowed tightly before looking around at them resolutely. "I'm out. I'm not going to Nationals with you guys."

"What?" Mr. Shue shook his head, shocked. "Puck, I don't understand… After all your hard work, you—"

"Right. All my hard work. I wouldn't wanna put you guys at risk..." He looked at Santana as he walked backwards to the door, his brows hiked and his eyes wide with meaning. "'Cause that's all that mattered… If I fucked things up for _you_guys…" He shook his head. "'Cause this was all I _had_, right? After I graduate, I'm just another Lima Loser."

She flinched.

He laughed humorlessly. "The last _good _thing I'd ever do was help win this with you guys. After that it was all down hill…" He clenched his teeth, jaw ticking. "I don't care anymore. I'm done."

Turning on his heel, he left, ignoring their angry, confused voices, calling after him.

.o.

"It's better than I expected," Leroy said, arms tucked behind his back as he walked around the room, brow cocked. "Not as nice as your room back home, but everybody starts somewhere…"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "My apartment is lovely, daddy! And so was my room back home. Which, by the way, you still haven't told me what you turned that into…"

"Screening room," they said simultaneously.

"We've only _just _finalized plans on it…" Hiram shook his head, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You know how your daddy is about color schemes."

She smiled. "I do."

"Speaking of…" Leroy frowned at the couch. "What happened there?"

"This was my first big buy. Isn't it wonderful?" She fluffed a pillow happily. "I got it for a steal."

His lip curled. "I can't imagine _why_…"

"Lee…" his husband said warningly.

"Please, it's _monstrous_."

Rachel giggled. "I knew you'd say that."

"And what is _that?_" he asked, staring at the dark stain on the cushion.

"An unfortunate dessert accident…" She said, sighing mournfully.

"If you're done critiquing our daughter's apartment, could we focus on something more interesting?" He turned to Rachel, grinning. "How are you liking your new job, Bunny? All you've told us is that it pays well…" He shrugged. "Details. Please. You know how our imaginations get away with us."

She shook her head. "It's nothing. It's—It's a _job_." Her smile turned brittle. "Regular hours, comfortably pay… I spend my days in mountains of paperwork just _begging _for my excellent organizational skills." She shrugged, turning her attention to her mantel, readjusting pictures that were already set exactly where she wanted them. She paused when she found the unframed photo of her as a young girl, in her red tutu, looking for all the world, a young star in the making. Her heart leapt and her eyes burned against her will.

Behind her, her parents exchanged a look.

"Rachel… Honey, come sit with me," her dad asked, patting the seat next to him as he sat on her couch.

With a soft sigh, she joined him.

He took her hand in his. "Now, I want you to be perfectly honest with us, okay?"

She nodded, meeting his eyes seriously.

He stared at her face searchingly, eyes darting behind his square glasses. "Don't answer right away." He rubbed his thumb over her fingers. "But are you _happy?_" His brows furrowed. "With your life, with—with your job and…" He shook his head and held up a hand to stop her. "Don't say yes because you think you _should _be or because it'll make _us _happy…" He patted her hand. "Look inside that big, beautiful heart of yours and tell us the truth."

She wanted to say yes.

She wanted to tell him that her job, safe and comfortable as it was, was exactly what she wanted in her life.

She wanted to say that her ten year plan was well on its way. That the structure she'd always deemed necessary in her life was doing its part to keep her sane. That she didn't miss Noah or the dreams he'd filled her head and her heart with. That she didn't miss the feeling of being on stage, of touching people with her voice.

She wanted to but she couldn't.

"No," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm not happy at all."

He sighed, eyes falling closed, and then he gathered her up in a hug.

"I—I miss him… I miss everything about him and everything I was when I was with him."

"I know… It's okay…"

He rubbed her back and hummed soothingly at her ear. She felt her other dad sit down next to her and together they cradled her close and told her it would be okay; _she _would be okay. But even though she wanted to trust them, her broken heart said different.

.o.

He was probably a little too drunk for this conversation.

He was probably a little too drunk _period_.

"I fucked up."

He looked up from his bed to find her staring down at him, arms crossed uncomfortably over her chest.

"Good for you." He balled up another piece of sheet paper and shot it, neither happy nor sad when it bounced off the rim before landing inside the garbage basket.

Santana raised a brow but didn't say anything. "Look, when I confronted her, I didn't think she'd turn tail and run like a little bitch." She shrugged. "Dump you, sure. But quit her job and play Carmen Sandiego?" She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. It's not my fault you picked such a frightened little rabbit for a girlfriend."

His fist squeezed hard against the next ball of paper. "It wasn't your business." He glared at her. "Now can ya go? I've got a pity party I gotta get back to and I'm running low on beer."

She sighed, turning her eyes away. "Shue wants to know if you're really quitting…"

"Already did."

"_Puck_—"

He stared at her darkly. "Fuck. Off."

She swallowed tightly before finally muttering, "You're an ass."

She fled the room and he didn't bother with a reply.

Instead, he stared down at his lap full of _Composed by: Noah Puckerman _and he balled it up and threw it away.

.o.

She went to Benny's sometimes.

She told herself she liked the atmosphere and she missed the stage, but she never went up there, never took the mic into her hand and shared her voice with everyone.

She just sat at a table, alone, nursing a diet Coke, occasionally glancing at the door.

She tried to convince herself she wasn't hoping he'd show up.

But in the end, her heart leapt every time the door opened and she realized…

She was an awful liar.

.o.

He stopped getting to school on time.

Started skipping classes.

Ben-Israel learned to fear him again. Being shoved into lockers did that to a kid.

He quit hanging out with the gleeks; even Finn.

Anything good in him, any progress he made, began to fade.

He drank too much and he picked up the old asshole persona like second nature.

He wished he could say it felt good; felt natural.

But it didn't.

.o.

"I feel… _weird_."

Brittany tipped her head. "Like cramps weird or like…" Her eyes darted away nervously. "That fondue might've expired, weird?"

Santana stared at her a long second. "No, like… Like whenever I see Puck and he's stuffing Ben-Israel into a locker or napping in math class, my stomach gets all tight and stuff… And my chest hurts."

Brittany reached out and rubbed Santana's boob comfortingly. "So it wasn't the fondue though, right?"

She snorted. "No, Britt…" She rolled her eyes. "I think… I dunno, you think maybe it's like… _regret _or something?"

"You mean for breaking up Puckleberry?" she asked knowingly.

Her lips pursed and she cast her eyes up to her girlfriend's bedroom ceiling. "Yeah, whatever… I mean, she shouldn't have been sipping that juice anyway, right? So I was doing them a _favor_ before somebody else caught wind of that…"

Brittany shuffled down the bed and dropped her head to Santana's shoulder. She drew shapes and swirls all over Santana's stomach with the very tip of her finger, gently tracing the infinity sign for awhile.

"Do you think Puck was happy?" Brittany finally wondered.

Santana dragged her fingers through the blonde's soft hair. "Sure… As happy as Puck gets when he's hitting it regular…"

She turned her head up so her chin was balanced on her. "Do you think he loved her?"

Santana's brow furrowed before she glanced at her and then away. "He said he did."

"What do _you _think?"

She took a long time to think it over before finally she sighed, long and loud.

Knowingly, Brittany smiled. "Puckleberry for life," she murmured before snuggling closer to her girlfriend.

"Yeah, yeah…"

.o.

Sometimes, Rachel found herself half-way through texting him something about her day, before she'd realize she shouldn't.

She didn't have that right.

So she would close her phone and her smile would fade and she'd quickly distract herself with something else.

Work, work, work.

It was all she had.

.o.

Everybody was avoiding him.

He was in a pissy mood and fucking up everything he worked on and cussing more than probably anybody'd ever heard before.

It was Burt who finally approached him.

"Puck, kid… You doin' all right?"

He flinched as his grip slipped and his knuckles scraped against the engine. Leaning back, hands braced, he sighed and looked over at Burt, his brows furrowed. "Fine," he muttered.

"Yeah? You sure?" He raised a brow. "'Cause you got all the guys watchin' you like they think you're gonna snap and take a crowbar to someone…" He shrugged. "Hey, we all have those days, but… Y'know, bad for business…"

He nodded. "Just been a bad few weeks."

"Yeah, no, I get it." He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the car. "This, uh… got anything to do with a girl…?" He cast his eyes over to him. "Maybe a certain secretary…"

His jaw ticked. "She doesn't work at my school anymore," he told him, turning a socket wrench over in his hands. "So no worries, you don't have to call some big 'Puck's fucked up again' intervention, all right?" He blew out a scoffing breath. "She left me…" He tossed the wrench into the toolbox and shook his head. "Should'a been expecting it anyway."

"Y'know, Puck, if there's anything I learned in my life it's that the right people can still make the wrong choices…" He shook his head. "Maybe this girl broke up with you because she thought it was for the best, I don't know…" He flipped his hat off and rubbed a hand over his head, nodding. "What I do know is that when she was around, you grew… You were happy… You—You were really, I dunno, _evolving _or something…" He shrugged. Turning, he looked at him seriously, eyes wide with meaning. "The point is, you gotta remember that those things, they don't _depend _on who's in your life… If you wanna be a dependable guy, you wanna ace school or move up in your job or, y'know, whatever it is you wanna do… You do that and you don't let it be because of anybody else but you." He reached out and tapped a finger against Puck's chest. "You're a good kid. And this girl, I think she saw that in you. I think she saw the potential that's always been there…" He half-smiled. "Just because she left doesn't mean you don't still have that in there somewhere."

Puck turned his eyes off and nodded.

"Good." Burt clapped his shoulder. "Look, finish up this car and then get outta here. Take the afternoon off; get your head on straight, okay?" He hiked his brows. "Find your focus again."

Puck sighed, but nodded.

As Burt walked off, Puck considered his words.

.o.

Rachel was confused by the buzzing. It was late; entirely too late for anybody to be at her door.

Her heart thudded when she thought of him, but one glance at the parking lot said his truck wasn't there.

Still, she walked to the comm. and pressed the talk button. "Y-Yes?" she asked uncertainly.

"Let me in," came a sharp, feminine demand.

"I—_Excuse _me?"

"Let. Me._ In_."

"I—I really don't think I can do that." She shifted back and forth on her feet. "I have no idea who you are and the super was very adamant about the rules… For all I know, you're a thief or—or something even _worse_."

She heard a long, irritated sigh. "Listen, either you buzz me in or I keep ringing every damn person in the joint until somebody gives up and does it for you. All I wanna do is talk."

Her lips pursed. "Who _is _this?"

"It's _Santana_," she finally snapped. "Now let me in."

Rachel hesitated. Her last conversation with Santana Lopez had brought her nothing good.

But since the Latina had nothing really to hold over her head any longer, she couldn't see the harm in it. Pressing the button, she waited nervously, pacing back and forth across her kitchen floor.

When the sharp knock at the door sounded, she startled. Crossing, she checked the peephole before turning the lock and opening the door.

"I… It's not appropriate for you to be visiting me," she said in hello, raising her chin stubbornly.

Santana walked past her with a raised brow. "That's probably the _most _appropriate thing a student's done at your place," she muttered.

Rachel felt her skin take on a bright red hue. "I-I don't know why you're here." She shifted, playing with the end of her nightgown, which she realized too late was actually Noah's old, grey, McKinley t-shirt. Rats! She hoped desperately that Santana wouldn't notice.

The girl whirled on her, hip cocked, arms crossed. "So listen… I take back my threat about getting you canned for doing the students." She shrugged. "You're welcome."

Her brows furrowed. "I'm sorry…?"

She rolled her eyes, blowing out a long, frustrated sigh. "I won't tell, okay?" She threw up her hands. "So you can go make up with Puck and get your job back or whatever and we're square."

Rachel shook her head slowly. "I… Noah and I aren't together anymore. I made it clear to Principal Figgins that I made some very unforgivable moral mistakes and that I wouldn't be working at McKinley anymore…" She swallowed tightly and lifted her chin. "It's done. And, I should probably thank you. What I was doing was wrong and—"

"Wait, just…" She waved a hand to stop her. "Look, what I said, it was… I was out of line… I mean, yeah, you shouldn't be with Puck if you're working at the school, but…" She sighed, turning her eyes away. "He… He _loves _you and he_misses _you and that—that's _my _fault. I… I was stupid and maybe a little jealous, I dunno. It's just… Puck was my boy. I don't like sharing. Sure, yeah, I'm into girls now, but whatever… He was my first and I guess I just… I _care _about him. Like in a jerky brother kind of way." She shrugged. "And now he's being a total whiny _ass_. He quit glee, he's not talking to _any_of us, and he just…" She blew out a long breath. "He _needs _you, or whatever, okay? So tell him you need him too and get your make-up sex on."

Rachel shook her head. "You make it sound very easy, but it's not so clear cut."

"You're _wearing _his shirt…" she sneered, pointing. "So obviously you still got lady-wood for him."

She shifted uncomfortably. "My feelings for Noah don't matter… What we were doing was _wrong_. And I… My life does not_fit_ with his… I need security and he wants to—to _travel _and _sing _and that… That doesn't pay the bills. So… It would just be better if we went our separate ways now and he struck out on his own to reach those dreams… without me."

"You're wrong." Santana walked toward her. "I was a mega-bitch to you, okay. I can admit that. But whatever Puck feels, it—it's _not _just gonna go away. He's not…" She sighed, exasperated. "He doesn't _fall _for girls. So if he fell for you, it's _big_. It's like… _Life changing_." She stared at her searchingly. "And I think you feel the same way about him."

She turned her face away.

"You're not working at McKinley now, Berry… So what's holding you back?" Leaving it at that, she walked past her and straight out the door.

Rachel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose.

She often wondered the same thing herself.

What was stopping her?

.o.

At some point, he decided maybe Burt was right.

He wasn't late for school the next day.

He went to all of his classes.

He nodded at Finn and some of the gleeks in the halls.

He tried not to scare the shit out of Jacob Ben Israel.

But at the end of the day, he was still angry and lonely and he missed her.

.o.

She hadn't seen him in almost a month, but when she found herself still squirreling away money for a future she didn't even have with him, she knew something had to change.

Her jar of Dreams was almost full and yet she herself felt emptier than ever.

.o.

He stood at the mic.

Her heart hammered.

He sat on a stool and put the strap of his guitar over his neck.

Her palms sweated, her fingers twitched, her stomach twisted and turned, her throat closed up, and her eyes burned.

She was excited and scared and her eyes darted for the exit even as her feet planted themselves hard.

He readjusted the mic closer before his fingers were dancing over the strings of his guitar and another man at a piano began to play.

His head was bowed, eyes on his guitar.

His voice was deep; it hit her so hard her knees shook and she was forced to take a seat.

_Standing face to face…  
>Wrapped in your embrace,<br>I don't wanna let you go…  
>But you're already gone…<em>

As he raised his chin just a little, she found herself holding her breath, almost hoping he would spot her.

_Now you kiss my cheek…  
>Soft and bittersweet…<br>I can read it in your eyes…  
>Baby, this is our goodbye…<em>

His brows furrowed and Rachel felt her heart racing.

_Nothing more to say,_  
><em>Nothin' left to break…<em>  
><em>I keep reachin' out for you…<em>  
><em>Hoping you might stay…<em>

He shook his head, leaning into his voice.

_Nothing more to give,_  
><em>Nothin' left to take…<em>  
><em>I keep reachin' out for you…<em>  
><em>Reachin' out for you…<em>  
><em>As you turn away…<em>

Rachel felt a tear dribble down her cheek and her eyes fell closed for a moment.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to watch him once more.

_Let go of my hand…_

His whole face screwed up with emotion and Rachel pressed a hand to her throat as it burned.

_So I can feel again…_

He licked his lips.

_Nothing's gonna hurt as much…  
>As that final touch…<em>

He closed his eyes, brow knotted with emotion.

_No we can't be friends…_  
><em>'Cause I don't think I could take seeing you,<em>  
><em>And knowing where we've been…<em>  
><em>I hope you understand…<em>

As he broke out in the chorus again, Rachel began to move her lips along with the words, scraping her fingers down her neck as she swayed side to side.

God, but it was a beautiful song.

As the chorus ended, he lifted his head fully and his voice broke out, laden with regret.

He cast his eyes over the crowd and she knew…

He was looking for her.

_One step my heart is breakin'…_  
><em>One more my hands are shakin'…<em>  
><em>The door is closing,<em>  
><em>And I just can't change it…<em>

His voice trailed off and for a moment all that could be heard was the soft, melancholy sound of the piano.

Her feet itched to move forward; to get closer.

Before finally, Noah's voice sang brokenly.

_Nothing more to say,  
>Nothing left to break…<em>

A pause.

And then suddenly all the sound came together for an emotional high as he burst forward with the chorus one last time.

_Nothing more to give,  
>Nothin' left to take…<br>I keep reachin' out for you…  
>Reachin' out for you…<em>

He shook his head, his eyes closed.

_I keep reachin' out for you…  
>Reachin' out for you…<br>As you turn away..._

The crowd went wild.

All the while, Rachel felt her heart shattering.

She stood on shaky legs and forced her way through the crowd and right out the door.

She took in a desperate breath, but her lungs still hurt, still ached.

She swiped at her face, where tears blurred her eyes and wet her cheeks.

She hurried across the parking lot to her car, digging in her purse for her keys.

She paused as she saw his truck, so familiar. And her lips curled in a small, sad smile.

Sniffling, she lifted her chin and turned her eyes up to the stars.

Gathering her strength, she climbed in her car.

She thought she saw him as she pulled out of the parking lot.

But she didn't stop.

.o.

He saw her in the crowd.

He saw her run out of the bar.

He watched her drive away and he wondered if it was always just going to be him chasing her and her running away.

.o.

She wrote him letters sometimes.

She wanted to explain; she wanted him to understand.

But then she wrote, "I miss you."

And, "I know this is a mistake I'll never forgive myself for."

And, "Is it wrong I don't regret you?"

Before finally, she would tuck them all away, in the same drawer he kept his sheet paper in, never to be mailed or read.

A constant reminder that an apology was needed, even to herself.

.o.

"You've been home a lot lately," she opened, her hands stuck deep in the sink of soapy dishes.

Puck sighed to himself, wrapping dinner's leftovers up to stuff away in the fridge.

"So?"

His mother looked at him over her shoulder, a brow raised. "So what happened?"

"Nothing…" He took the cloth she offered him and started wiping down the table. "Burt cut me back a few shifts…" He shrugged. "I watch Becca when you need me to, I don't see what the big deal is."

She frowned. "I'm not saying I don't _like _it…" She shook her head. "But you were busy before… You were always out, with friends, with…" Her eyes turned away, "your girlfriend."

His jaw ticked. "I don't _have _a girlfriend."

She was quiet a long moment before finally, she pulled her hands from the dish water, shook them off, and then took a tea towel to rub away the excess water. Leaning her hip against the counter, she turned to him, blowing a loose chunk of brown hair off her face. "You wanna talk about it?"

He scoffed. "What? _No_."

"Noah…" she said, gently, eyes darting over his face searchingly. "This girl you were with… You two were serious?"

He swallowed tightly before walking over to the garbage can and wringing out the cloth of bits and pieces of food. "Yeah…" he muttered, half-hoping she wouldn't hear him.

"You fell for her," she said, not a question but a statement.

And he nodded, his back to her.

"She love you back?"

There was a moment, a split-second of anger, that wanted to lash out. That wanted to say that she couldn't have, not really, not if she could leave him like she did. But then he remembered… How she looked when they were together. Her smile. Her laugh. Every little thing she did to make him feel at home in her apartment. And her voice, breathless, in awe, as she told him she loved him too.

"Yeah," he rasped. Licking his lips, he added, "Just not enough."

"Oh, bubbala…" She stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. She scrubbed a hand down the back of his head and he leaned into it. "She was a nice, Jewish girl?" she wondered.

He laughed. "Yeah, ma."

"Now _I _might cry…"

Sighing, he turned to look at her, lips quirked at the corners. "You would'a liked her…"

"She had good taste," she told him, nodding. "Giving you up is a mark against her though. I can put her on my list if you want…" She wiggled her eyebrows.

He grinned. "S'all right. Kinda like her still… Maybe takin' a hit out on her's a bit much."

She shrugged, tossing her hands up. "You say so." She turned and walked back to the sink, tossing her tea towel onto her shoulder.

As Puck moved to leave the kitchen, she called his name.

She didn't look at him, instead keeping her eyes on the dishes, as she said, "Whoever she was and whatever mistakes she made in walking away from you… Maybe the one good thing she did was bring you back to us, huh?"

Puck's brows furrowed.

"You really turned yourself around this year, Noah… I'm not saying it was her, you did all the hard work, but… It was nice. Seeing you put some effort into things…" Finally, she looked over at him. "I know college isn't where you're headed, No'… I can live with that…" She nodded. "Just as long as you're happy."

His eyes fell, uncomfortable with the sincerity and the emotion in his mother's face. With a nod, he gave his silent acknowledgement before leaving the room.

.o.

It came to a head the first week of May.

Her boss, a nice man in his mid-forties with thinning strawberry-blond hair, a much-too-thin to be attractive mustache, and a long, narrow nose that whistled when he talked, approached her early that Friday morning.

He took a seat on the corner of her desk, hitching his pants up at the knee so they wouldn't strain uncomfortably.

"You're a hard worker, Miss. Berry," he praised.

She smiled up at him. "Thank you, sir."

"I took a chance on you, being as young as you are…" He nodded. "It's hard to find good, strong workers… None of that drama in the workplace. Just good, solid, no-nonsense work ethic." He nodded, shaking a fist respectfully. "You know, if you keep this up, we might just promote you." He grinned then, and her eyes fell to the thin mustache stretched above his upper lip. "You'll be with us a good long time. Health benefits, security, the whole nine yards." He cut his hand through the air. "We might even get you a name plate for your door!" he told her cheerfully.

Rachel stared at him. He went on for a few minutes about how nice it would be for her to have this job to keep her steady. How she should start saving money for a home and retirement and how he was just like her at his age.

She was sure he was nice.

She was sure he was happy with his life.

She was sure that for some people, this life and this security and this future were justified and wonderful and beautiful.

For _them_.

But Rachel had tasted freedom and love and she'd dreamed of the open road; she'd _prepared _for it. And suddenly, the idea of not having it, of doing this job forever, of organizing files and paper, of settling down in Lima,Ohio, was the most suffocating idea she'd ever had. She physically felt herself begin to panic, as if the walls were closing in on her. Her breathing picked up and her heart raced and she knew she was standing at a crossroads.

"No," she said.

"—wife thinks Florida is the hip place to be, but—" He paused, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

"I… I'm sorry, sir." She took a deep breath before lifting her chin to look at him. "But I'm afraid that I won't… I won't be here after June."

He shook his head slowly. "I'm confused. Were you planning a vacation?"

"No, I…" She smiled. "I'm planning a life," she said. Standing from her seat, she lifted her stack of folders and hugged them to her chest. "I promise you I will be a wonderful employee and I will do all that you ask of me in this job, but I'll respectfully be handing in my resignation in June. I think that's plenty of time to find my replacement."

"But—But—"

"Now I really must get back to work. I have so much filing to do…" She walked past him to the filing cabinet to get back to work.

Confused and startled, he eventually stood and left her office to return to his own work.

Rachel could only hope he wouldn't fire her early. She would need the money.

.o.

She went to the garage first. Squeezing her hands around the grip of her small purse, she stepped inside the loud warehouse of cars and men in dirty coveralls and cast her eyes to and fro searchingly, shuffling her feet and gnawing at her lip.

"Can I help you?" a voice called out.

She jumped, turning quickly to face the man she'd only met briefly when she'd had her car serviced by them. "Mr. Hummel," she greeted with a faint smile. "I… I hope I'm not interrupting your work."

He shrugged, half-smiling at her. "I'm the boss, so, y'know, I kinda like to be interrupted."

She chuckled softly. "Good. I, um, I was hoping I might be able to speak to one of your employees…" Her brows furrowed. "That is… I-I think he still works for you… Noah Puckerman?"

"Puck's still here," he assured.

Hope sprung up and her smile widened.

"He's not working today though."

Her face fell. "_Oh_."

"You're, uh…" He scratched his temple awkwardly. "You're his girlfriend, right?"

She heard the unsaid words there; _the secretary_.

She took a step back, expecting ridicule.

"No, wait, it's okay…" He held his hands up. "Listen, lady, I have my questions and my concerns about what might'a happened with you and Puck…" His eyes widened and his brows raised meaningfully. "The kinda situation you two were in, you being the secretary at his school, I mean… Yeah, that worried me…"

"It was never supposed to happen." She shook her head, unable to keep the words, the explanation from spilling from her lips. "I—I was _so _adamant that nothing would ever come of it and he—he was _so _persistent…" she confided. "And before I knew it, I just… I was in love with him." Her breath left her shakily. "I'm _still _in love with him. And I—I know it wasn't a good situation. It was _wrong_. But I left the school and I stopped seeing him and I… I honestly thought that maybe I could go back to my life before him." Her eyes filled with tears, threatening to overflow, not the least bit deterred by the wide-eyed and uncomfortable look on Mr. Hummel's face. "But I'm afraid that's impossible now because everything I thought I wanted is everything I don't. And all I do want is packed in a Dream jar and a man whose heart I broke and I'm not sure he'll ever forgive me."

Her shoulders shook as she finally broke down into sobs.

"O-Okay…" Burt walked over to her and patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Hey, listen, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is…"

She dropped her head to his shoulder and shook it. "He probably _hates _me!"

He sighed. "Puck's a few things. Stubborn and hot-headed are two. But I gotta tell you, this last month without you, he's just been on edge and lost…" He took her shoulders and turned so they were facing each other. "Now I'm not saying I approve of how you two got together or anything, but…" He shrugged. "Probably the happiest I ever saw that kid was when he had his head on straight and dating you…" He stared at her searchingly. "He's had a lot of people leave him… But not many who ever fought to keep him."

Rachel swallowed thickly and nodded her had. "I understand."

He patted her shoulder one last time and then waved a thumb to the nearby washroom. "You should clean up. Ya got raccoon eyes going on there." He motioned to his face.

She laughed, reaching up to wipe at her cheeks. "Thank you." Nodding in farewell, she walked past him to the bathroom.

"And Miss?"

She looked back.

He half-smiled. "Good luck."

Rachel grinned.

She was pretty sure she would need it.

.o.

He was contemplating earplugs as Becca sang some Hannah Montana song at the top of her lungs when he got the text.

One word.

_Benny's_.

He checked the sender twice, and then he checked the date it was sent just to be sure.

He replied with two words of his own.

_What time?_

.o.

He was lucky his ma got home when she did, any later and he was pretty sure he wouldn't have made it. All things considered, he was still almost late, and even talking himself out of it as he crossed the parking lot to the bar. But then he saw her car and he knew she was there. He didn't know what this was about but he had his hopes high.

He wasn't sure what he'd do if this was another kick in the balls.

When he walked inside, the crowd was loud. His eyes scanned over tables and faces for her but he couldn't spot her anywhere. His brows furrowed and he walked further in. He considered dropping by the bar and asking the bartender if he'd seen her but with as many people as there were, he knew he wouldn't get much from him.

And then the microphone squeaked.

His eyes cut toward the stage and there she was.

She was fiddling with the hem of her dress and readjusting the mic, looking out over everybody nervously.

It was the first time she'd ever been on a stage without him.

The glow of the spotlight fell on her beautifully, making her hair look even shinier. He wasn't sure if it was the warmth of the light or just nerves that had her cheeks flushed.

He walked closer, his head cocked, fingers itching to reach out for her.

God, she looked incredible. It'd been a month since he'd gotten a good look at her. That time he saw her here when he was singing hardly counted since she was there and gone before he even had much time to take her in. She was still so damn small with crazy long legs. Legs he remembered _vividly_… He scrubbed a hand over his mouth.

She turned her head and caught him then and her eyes widened slightly. He didn't walk any further, uncertainty and wariness keeping him from getting too hopeful. She turned her head and said something to the man at the piano, who nodded back at her.

A soft melody began.

Her fingers curved around the mic as she leaned closer.

_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time…_  
><em>And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you…<em>

Her eyes fell, lashes dancing over her cheeks, and her brows furrowed.

_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time…  
>You hung me on a line…<br>Maybe I'm amazed of the way I really need you…_

Puck was momentarily rocked by how beautiful her voice always was.

She raised her chin up and looked straight at him.

_Maybe I'm a girl,  
>Maybe I'm a lonely girl who's in the middle of something,<br>That she doesn't really understand…_

She shook her head.

_Maybe I'm a girl,_  
><em>and maybe you're the only one who could ever help me…<br>Hey, won't you help me understand…?_  
><em>Oooh, help me understand…<em>

She brushed her long, wavy hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

Puck felt his hands unfurl from fists at his sides, relaxing.

_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time…_  
><em>Maybe I'm afraid of the way I need you…<em>

She pressed a hand to her heart and got a little more confident in her singing.

_Baby, I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song…_  
><em>Right me when I'm wrong…<br>Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you…_

As she broke out into the chorus again, she started swaying to the beat, smiling as the crowd began to clap along with her.

_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time…  
>Maybe…<br>Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you…_

He felt himself smiling and shook his head.

_Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time…_  
><em>Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you…<em>

She threw her arms out and belted out the next few lines.

_Maybe I'm amazed…  
>Maybe I'm amazed…<em>

Puck shook his head, honestly blown away by the power she put into her voice.

_Maybe I'm amazed…  
>Ooh...<br>Maybe I'm amazed…_

And softening her voice, she finished with a long, heartfelt,

_By you…_

As the music fell away, the crowd went wild.

Panting and grinning wide, she nodded her head and murmured, "Thank you," before stepping off the stage.

Her nerves set back in as she walked toward him; he could tell by the way she wrung her hands, twisting and pulling at her fingers.

Her eyes were wide and worried as she stared up at him.

"You were good out there," he told her, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly. "It was…" She shook her head, her brow furrowed, "exhilarating and terrifying and absolutely wonderful…"

He half-smiled, nodding in understanding.

"Can we…?" She licked her lips. "Will you sit with me?"

He followed her over to a table where they sat across from each other, her hand on the tabletop, vaguely scratching at the surface with her fingernail.

"I…" She shook her head, her brows furrowing. "I'm so sorry, Noah."

His jaw tensed, eyes falling.

"When Santana showed up that day and she just, she laid it all out in front of me, I… I got scared. I…" She closed her eyes. "There's no excuse for how I treated you. The very _least _you deserved was an explanation."

"Santana's a meddling bitch, I get it," he muttered.

"No." She frowned. "Well, yes, but…" She sighed. "She came to my apartment and she apologized for her behavior and she promised she wouldn't say a word and I… I believed her." She nodded. "She was worried about you and while she didn't think our relationship was the most conventional, she was supportive in the end…"

"When was that?" he wondered.

"A couple weeks ago," she admitted.

His lips pressed into a line. "So what took you so long?" He shook his head. "She said she wouldn't tell…"

"It wasn't just that. It wasn't… It wasn't simply that I was a secretary and you were a student…" She stared at him searchingly. "Noah, I've spent my whole life in a very safe box… I did everything in my power to lead the most stable, unexciting life I could, all because I had this awful fear that I would be like a woman I never really knew…" Her brows knotted. "I ignored my singing talent, I looked for a job where I would be underutilized and hidden away, and I convinced myself that the type of man I wanted to marry was some stuffy, boring, uneventful type. I… And after Santana came bursting into my life, threatening to spill all my dirty secrets, I realized that you represented the downfall of everything I'd spent twenty-one years cultivating… When I was with you, I—I came _alive_." Her face lit up, it brightened with hope and peace. "I wanted the open road and writing songs and even living out of two-star motels and singing in little bars all over the country… And none of that, not one little bit, not even _you _were promising safety or security or a future retirement plant. It was all just… It was built on a dream, a fantasy… A _hope_." She swallowed tightly. "And I let myself drown in it. I held tight to it _and _you…"

"So what's so wrong with that?" he asked, reaching out and covering her hand. "What's so wrong with wanting that instead?" He frowned. "So you won't have health benefits and retiring in Florida might not happen, but Rach… Isn't all that worth that feeling you got when you were on that stage? When those people clapped or sang along or just fuckin' loved you for that golden voice of yours—?"

She smiled softly. "Yes."

"We—Wait, what?"

She laughed. "It is. All of it." She squeezed his hand. "Noah, I don't want to waste my life in an office, surrounded by stacks of paper, avoiding life… I…" She rubbed her thumb over his fingers. "I want you and I want the road and I want us to be open and honest and completely free of ridicule or misunderstandings…" She licked her trembling lips. "I'm so sorry that I ever hurt you, that I ever _left_ you, but if you'll give me another chance I won't waste it. I… I'm done running from this, from _you_…" She reached for him, pressing a hand to his cheek. "And if you need me to prove it like you did for me, I _will_." She smiled tremulously. "There's only two months until you graduate and I've been saving money since we got together… It's not much, but it'll help when we're on the road. I've already told my boss I'll be resigning in June, so…" She laughed awkwardly. "I suppose I got a little ahead of myself…"

"You're serious…?" he asked.

"I…" She nodded. "Yes. Absolutely."

"You're not gonna cut and run if somebody mentions you were bangin' a student?"

She pursed her lips. "I'll admit our timing was bad, but I refuse to regret it!"

He nodded slowly and ground his teeth together. "I can't do this again, Rach…"

Her face fell and her eyebrows furrowed. "_Oh_…"

She started pulling her hand away but he squeezed it tight. "I mean I can't lose you again. I can't… Get into this with you and have you just… Leave me like that."

She shook her head. "Noah, that is the last time you will ever see me run away…" She inhaled deeply. "I can't promise we won't fight and maybe one day, down the road, we'll go our separate ways, I don't know… But it won't be because I'm scared… It won't be because we shouldn't be together… You're a student and I'm a secretary. I don't work for your school. You're eighteen and legal and I… Well…" She smiled. "I can't be held responsible for how undeniably attractive and charming you are."

He half-grinned. "True."

She chuckled, ducking her head slightly as a smile turned up her lips.

It took all of his strength to tell her, "I gotta think about it…"

Her eyebrows hiked before she nodded quickly. "I— No, I—I get it…"

He scrubbed a hand over his 'hawk. "I just don't wanna do this again and…" He shook his head. "I'm always the guy who gets dumped, y'know?" He looked away.

"I know." She sniffled. "So I'll just have to prove to you I won't do that."

He turned back to her.

She smiled brightly, if sadly. "I will, Noah."

He nodded.

After a few seconds, he took her hand and played with her fingers.

They spent the rest of the night listening to music and talking.

She wanted to know what he'd done with the last month, so he told her. About drinking and fighting, picking up old habits and quitting glee. And she didn't judge him, she didn't look disappointed or like she was questioning her decision to get back with him. So when he told her that he was going to classes again and making an effort not to scare the shit out of Ben-Israel and that he was back on track, she looked proud, and he felt proud.

When the bar closed and they were standing in the parking lot, she stole a kiss.

Lifted up on the tips of her toes, she pressed her lips to his and scraped her fingers down the tail of his 'hawk.

Her lips were soft and warm and they felt so damn right against his that his eyes fell closed.

But she was backing up toward her car before he could wrap his arms around her and he found he felt a little cheated.

She smiled at him. "I still have to prove myself," she reminded him. With a wink, she added, "Prepare to be wooed, Noah Puckerman!"

Finally, she climbed in her car and waved a hand out the window as she drove away.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Puck grinned to himself, shaking his head.

He felt better than he had in weeks. And that hope that he wasn't sure he should rely on, grew.

Still, he wasn't ready to put it all on the line again; not when she'd already burned him.

He would just have to see where it went.


	8. Part VIII

**VIII.**

Puck wasn't completely sure how this whole 'wooing' thing was going to go down, but he was kind of excited when he got her text asking him to come over.

Thing was, a part of him really didn't want to wait. He wanted to just jump right back into what they were before she got scared and cut ties. But the part of him that'd been burned too many times to count told him he should be careful. He loved her. He never stopped. He just needed to know she wasn't gonna do the same thing to him in a few months.

It was the first time in a month that she answered when he buzzed her apartment; memories of waiting desperately for her to just talk to him, to let him up, let him explain, hit him hard in the chest. He shook it off. She was making an effort to fix it now, that's what mattered. He was a little nervous as he waited, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

"Come on up," she said cheerfully.

A buzz told him the door was unlocked and he pulled it open, stepping inside. He caught the elevator up to her floor and leaned back against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets, fingering his phone and truck keys.

He'd told his ma he was going out and didn't explain where; the look on her face said she had a pretty good idea.

As he stepped off the elevator, Rachel was hanging out her apartment door, hand hooked on the door frame as she waited eagerly for him to arrive.

He half-smiled when he saw her, heart thumping when she grinned widely.

"Hey!" she greeted.

It felt weird not to reach for her; he wasn't really sure what he could and couldn't do. But then he figured it was mostly up to him since he was the one putting the brakes on the relationship, so he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Her breath stuttered; he could hear it, even feel it against his ear.

He smirked.

She backed up. "_Okay!_" she said loudly, clapping her hands together. "So come on in!" She motioned behind her to the hall closet, "Here, let me take your coat…"

Closing the door behind him, Puck shrugged his jacket off and handed it over. His eyes wandered down her back to the short, floaty end of her dress, brushing against the backs of her thighs as she rose up on her tip toes to hook the hanger in the closet.

Clearing his throat, he raised a brow and asked, "So, uh, you're not gonna seduce me into moving things along, right?" He shrugged. "'Cause, not that I'd _complain_, but—"

Rachel turned back around to face him with an amused smile. "I wasn't planning to _seduce _you, Noah… At least not yet." She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it as she said sincerely, "Not until you trust me again."

"Cool," he said, nodding, but his eyes fell again to where her tiny dress fit around her small, curvy body.

"I made you dinner," she told him, and shaking his hand once, she then used it to drag him toward the kitchen.

He was inwardly groaning, going over which of her vegan recipes he might actually be able to get through when he noticed the steak, baked potato, and sautéed mushrooms she had steaming on the table for him.

"That's real meat!" he said, his brows hiked.

She turned to him, smiling, nodding. "Mm-hmm." She led him to the table before handing him a neatly folded fabric napkin that he tucked carelessly in his shirt while she took a seat across from him. "Mine isn't. It's a meat substitute, but I wanted to make you your favorite meal."

He shook his head. "But you _hate _meat… You don't even like touching the packaging. I know, 'cause you used tongs to put away the hamburger when we went shopping once."

Smoothing out the napkin in her lap, she explained, "I used gloves." She poured herself a glass of wine and then used a bottle opener on his favorite beer. "It wasn't pleasant, I may have apologized once or twice to the unfortunate cow, but I pushed through it…"

He stared at her a long moment.

Rachel simply grinned at him. "Dig in, Noah. _Please_."

He grabbed up his knife and fork and warily cut into his steak. He was surprised to find it tender and just a little red and fucking _awesome_. For somebody who didn't like, or often cook, meat, Rachel kicked ass at making this one for him.

And, y'know, it wasn't lost on him, that this was kinda big. Rachel took being a vegan really serious and he got that. It's why he never pushed her to eat shit she didn't like, why he willingly hid his meat away, and why he even tried her vegan recipes sometimes. So for her to make this, to go out of her way to make something she knew he would like and that went against her personal preferences, told him a lot.

After dinner, they did the dishes together, where instead of helping much he made more of a mess on the floor with sloshed water and flicked bubbles at her. It felt nice to laugh with her, to twirl her around and catch her as she slipped in the puddles on the linoleum. And it felt really good to kiss her goodnight. It was short and sweet and her hands gripped the front of his shirt as she sighed. She smiled at him, corners of her lips tipped up just barely, her eyes half-lidded. He licked his lips and backed away before he forgot all about being careful and testing waters.

Happier than he'd been in awhile, with a full stomach and the feel of her lips still fresh on his own, he couldn't help but think that maybe this wooing shit wasn't half-bad.

.o.

The presents started arriving that Monday.

The first one he found on the table when he got home from school.

His ma smiled at him knowingly, motioning over to it as she said simply, "It arrived in the mail."

Puck grabbed it up, nodded at her in thanks, and took it upstairs to open it.

It was a black mug with the white bars and notes to the first song he ever shared with her printed from the top to the bottom.

He could hear the tune in his head as he stared at it, a grin lifting his mouth.

The card had a simple hand drawn star on it.

She was amazing.

.o.

"Did you get it?" she asked as soon as she answered the phone.

He nodded as he fell back against his bed, balancing the mug she got him on his chest. "Yeah, it was here when I got home…"

"_And…_?"

He grinned, tracing the music notes with his finger. "It's awesome, Rach. Seriously."

"I—I'm glad. I hoped you'd like it."

"Totally… But how'd you remember the notes?" he wondered.

"I kept all your songs. Even the ones you threw away…" she explained simply. "Every song is beautiful in their own way, Noah." She paused. "Well, maybe not that awful one I wrote about headbands."

He laughed.

"It wasn't _that _bad."

He cracked up worse.

"_Fine_. It was pretty awful…"

Eventually, she joined him in laughing.

.o.

_Have a nice day at work! - Rachel*_

She was texting him a lot lately. She said she didn't want to smother him, wanted to give him time to come to his own conclusions, so they weren't spending every night together like they used to. Instead, she would call or text to ask how his day was going and they'd catch up that way. They agreed that once or twice a week they'd get together for dinner or watch movies at her place. It was slow-moving, but he liked it. He missed her and he kinda wanted to go back to how it used to be, just the two of them, every night, but he got it. He was the one who wanted to figure out if they could do this again.

Puck noticed he was a lot less stressed lately. He wasn't biting people's heads off or scaring customers away with his generally pissy outlook. One of the guys walked by, clapped him on the back, and said in greeting, "Thank God you finally got laid," before getting right back to work.

Burt was a lot more subtle.

Puck was flying through cars, feeling good and whistling under his breath as he worked.

"Hey," Burt said as he walked up, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag and nodding his head in greeting.

"Hey," he returned. "What's up?"

"Nothin'. Nothing… Just, y'know, wanted to see how things were… You've been workin' pretty steady all afternoon… It's good to see… Guess you, uh, got your head on straight."

Puck half-smirked. "Yeah, something like that."

Burt stared at him a long minute before finally nodding. "Good. That's… That's good." He started walking away then. "Long as you know what you're doing," he offered, pointing the rag at him.

"I do," Puck said confidently. "I got it."

The older man smiled. "Yeah, I think so too."

With that, he left him to his work.

Whistling once more, Puck stuck his head under another hood and got down to business.

.o.

"How was your day?" she wondered.

He shook his head even though she couldn't see him since they were on the phone. "Shitty. Tell me about yours."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? It might help…"

"Nah, it's long and just dumb shit. Seriously, what was happening with your boss? He still trying to get you stick around?"

She scoffed, exasperated. "Did I tell you about the cheese basket he brought to the office for me? He thought it was some kind of incentive and completely ignored my long and detailed explanation of what a Vegan is!"

Puck grinned. "I like cheese."

"I know. Which is why when I was finished with my speech and he offered to get rid of it, I told him I had someone who would love it… It's here if you want it."

He laughed. "Thanks, babe."

"Of course… Now," she said seriously, "Tell me about your day."

He sighed, but Rachel was persistent, so he spent the next twenty minutes telling her about his clusterfuck of a day. And, y'know, she was right, talking about it helped. It felt good to have someone to talk to about this kind of stuff, somebody who didn't judge but listened and supported. He'd missed it when they were broken up and he was glad to have it back; to have all of it back.

.o.

"How come Noah's getting gifts and I'm not?" Becca complained, sticking her bottom lip out and stomping her foot.

"'Cause you suck," he replied dismissively.

"_Mo-oooom!_" she cried, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Noah," his mother sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever." Puck waved his new gift in his sister's face before taking the stairs two at a time.

"Not _fair!_" Becca shouted after him.

Snorting to himself, he walked into his room, closing the door behind him, and picked the brown packaging away.

He laughed as he stared at the box in front of him.

A make-your-own ukulele kit.

Shaking his head, he sat down on his desk chair, twirled around and dropped the box on the desk top, popping the lid and looking inside with a half-grin. Ignoring his homework, he got to work.

He was the proud owner of his own ukulele before the night was out.

.o.

She made him play it for her.

He'd spent some time learning how to play online, but not everything was the same as a guitar.

He thought he was pretty damn good though, considering he'd had it less than twenty-four hours.

She sat on her couch, legs curled beneath her, sitting forward eagerly.

He held it high against his chest and plucked at the strings slowly, finding a tune he knew pretty well.

She beamed at him. "Talented at everything you do," she told him.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Her cheeks flushed pink and she ducked her head, her hair falling.

His own smile faded.

Damn, she looked beautiful.

He'd dropped by shortly after she finished work; she was still wearing a black pencil skirt and a frilly pink blouse, all professional. She'd let her hair down though and it fell in waves around her shoulders. She'd kicked off her tall, black heels too, wiggling her toes as soon as they were free.

His fingers were still, sitting unmoving against the ukulele strings, as his head sat tilted to one side and he simply stared a long moment. At the subtle upturn of her lips at the corners, a smile starting. The delicate chain of the star necklace her dads got her years ago, hanging between the frilled edges of the v-neck of her blouse. Her fingers sitting knotted in her lap.

She tucked her long hair behind her ear and his fingers twitched against the strings.

When she looked up at him from beneath her lashes, his jaw ticked.

Licking his lips, he put the ukulele down on her coffee table and finally leaned over to her.

She waited, not moving, just watching him as he got closer, her eyes darting over his face, hopeful.

Her breath became shallow, heavy, her brows furrowed.

And as his mouth slanted across hers, he felt relief run through him. Comfort. He buried a hand in her hair, so soft, sifting over the back of his hand. Her hands rose and framed his face and she sighed into his mouth. He leaned her back until she was laid out on the couch beneath him.

And it felt good, lying on top of her, the soft curves of her body pressed up tight to his.

Her nails, dragging across the strip of hair across his head, fingers gripping the tail, scratching the nape of his neck.

Her knees pressed against his sides, long legs reaching to wrap around him.

Her lips were warm, familiar, her tongue hot as it reached for his, dabbing at his mouth.

And when she bit his lip, he moaned, sinking heavier on top of her.

She laughed knowingly, nails scraping behind his ears before she did it again.

An hour later, panting, lips bruised and puffy, her blouse untucked from her skirt and sitting askew, her skirt shoved up her hips, they laid wrapped on her couch still, legs tangled.

"I missed that," she told him.

He lifted his head from her shoulder to look at her and she smiled at him softly, sincerely.

He nuzzled his nose against hers. "Me too."

.o.

"What are you wearing?"

He laughed, so sudden it actually threw him a little off balance. "Seriously? Am I rubbing off on you that much?"

She giggled. "I'm in the midst of wooing you… I'm just taking a page from your successful playbook."

He grinned, shaking his head to himself and scrubbing a hand down his 'hawk.

"So…" she drawled. "Enlighten me." Her voice dropped to a low, seductive lilt. "What. Are. You. _Wearing?_"

He licked his lips and settled back in his bed, arm tucked behind his head. "Tit for tat…" he reminded.

She laughed warmly. "It'd be my pleasure…"

.o.

The third gift was a batch of sugar cookies, covered in hearts, skulls, and music notes; footballs, baseballs, and basketballs; microphones, guitars, and stars.

He gave his sister a few because she wouldn't stop begging, but he mostly hoarded them for himself.

They were seriously the best cookies he'd ever had in his life.

His ma spotted one with a Star of David and smirked at him. She patted his cheek, stole a cookie, and nodded her approval at him before she walked out of the kitchen.

Instead of over thinking it, he stuffed his mouth with a number 20 cookie.

.o.

"We don't have to watch Grey's," she offered for, no kidding, the _sixth_ time since he got to her place.

She was in her favorite lazy-day pajamas, her hair tossed up in a lopsided pony-tail.

He half-grinned, dragged her feet up into his lap, and sunk back into her couch. "Seriously, I want to."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, but put it on.

It felt good to get back to basics.

They watched Criminal Minds afterwards and he got in some well-deserved cuddling when she got freaked out by the psycho killer.

Score!

.o.

The fourth gift he actually found in his backpack. She must've stuck it in there when he was over at her place.

He was pulling out his books for class when he found a leather-bound journal with a bright red bow stuck to it.

Brows furrowed, he opened it.

On the inside of the cover was a small, square sticker with her handwriting on it.

**For**: _Noah_

_Because inspiration strikes at the most inconvenient of times, you can keep this on hand for whenever the music calls._

_Love always,_

_Rachel*_

His mouth ticked up on one side.

On the first two pages, she'd taped the cards with the lyrics to the song he wrote for her on Valentine's Day.

He read them over a few times before eventually putting it away.

That night, he wrote her a new song.

.o.

She was in the shower; they had plans for take-out and a movie but work ran late so she didn't get a chance to freshen up until the same time arrived.

He was watching TV, distracted, when the phone rang, so he picked it up without giving it much thought.

"Yeah?"

There was no reply right away, and then. "…Who is that?"

"I don't know," another man replied. "I—Are you sure you dialed right?"

"Of _course _I did! I think I know our daughter's phone number, Hiram, _really!_"

"Well it's not every day we call and get a mysterious male voice on the other end, Leroy. There are those _two_ three's at the end, are you sure you—?"

"This is Rachel's number," Puck interrupted.

"…_Oh_."

"And this wouldn't be Rachel, so you would _be…_?"

_Puck _was on the tip of his tongue. But he knew who this was. He knew what they meant to her. So instead he said, "Noah." Because he wasn't going to lie and pretend he was a co-worker or some shit, but he also wanted them to know he was serious about this.

There wasn't a reply for awhile; he started to wonder if they'd hung up.

"I _knew _it! I _told _you she would make the right decision!"

"Well honestly, how long did it really take?"

"A month," Puck told them, not the least bit offended that they seemed to be talking like he wasn't on the phone with them.

"A _month!_"

"Which means they've been back together _weeks _and did she tell her fathers? _Puh!_ She's been holding out on us, all this time!" He scoffed. "Well this won't do at all! What happened to the motto, hm? Where is the honesty and respect?"

"We're taking it slow, figuring things out or whatever," Puck piped up again.

"That's no excuse! All of this time, worried about her, wondering if we should cancel the theater room and return her room to it's former glory so she could move back home!"

"Uh…" His brows furrowed. "Sorry?"

"You're wasting time, Hiram. Grill the boy! Ask him all his deep, dark secrets! Ooh, make sure he likes musicals! No son-in-law of ours doesn't like musicals!"

He snorted, shaking his head to himself. "They're growin' on me."

"Well, that's acceptable… Room for improvement, but still."

"Noah?"

His head whipped around to find Rachel in nothing but a towel, her hair dripping. "Who's on the phone?" she wondered, tucking the towel a little tighter under her arms.

"Uh…"

"Don't tell her it's us!" her dads whispered simultaneously.

"Why?" he wondered.

Rachel's head tipped, confused. "I thought I heard it ring… Is it work? I told him to leave the filing until tomorrow." She scoffed, shaking her head. "For a man his age, he should understand alphabetical order better."

"We want to see how long it takes for her to tell us about your reunion," one of her dad's told him. "Tell her it's somebody else. Anybody but us."

"Don't ask him to lie to her!"

Puck considered his options for a second before finally saying, "Hey, babe, we should really call for dinner."

"Oh, sure, of course. I know we agreed on BreadstiX but I've been thinking something more exotic might be nice…"

"Fantastic job. He's distracting her!"

"I'm on the phone too, Lee, I know what he's doing!"

"We should hang up before she becomes too suspicious!"

"Fine, fine. It was very nice to speak with you Noah. Please, be a dear and don't break out daughter's heart. I'm handy with a blowtorch and I've recently begun gardening, so I have these wonderful pruning tools that I hardly think you'll appreciate."

Puck blinked. "Message received."

"Ta!" they said cheerfully.

He hung up, frowning at the phone a long second.

Finally, he just said, "Hey, babe, do your dads garden?"

She popped her out of her room to look at him thoughtfully as she brushed her hair. "Daddy started recently. Why?"

He shook his head, crossed his legs, and said, "No reason…"

With a confused little laugh, she shook her head at him and stepped back into her room.

Even though they threatened his junk, Puck still thought her dads were kinda cool. That was totally the last time he answered her phone though.

.o.

Puck was going over the lyrics to a new song in his head, sitting on her couch.

"What do you think about going to Benny's tonight?" she asked him from her bedroom, plucking an earring out from the trinket box he'd got her for Hanukah and sticking it in her ear as she sat at her dresser.

He picked at a hole in his jeans and shrugged. "Sure. What time d'you wanna meet there?"

"Actually, I think we should just take your truck."

He paused. "You wanna drive in together?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," she reminded.

He snorted. "Yeah, but you were always wearing a wig when we were still in city limits."

She rolled her eyes. "So I was overdramatic…" She stood from her dresser and walked to her closet. "I'll leave the wig at home and we can take your truck in. Unless you'd like to take my car…?"

He frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, my truck's better."

"Debatable," she answered.

He was about to list all the ways his truck was boss when she walked into the living room in a killer pair of heels, a short purple dress, and holding a box as she grinned at him.

He was still trying to form a decent thought when she handed him the box. "Here. Lucky number five."

He took it more out of instinct than anything, eyes glued to her tight little body packed in her pretty dress, her long legs on display.

"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked, before taking a seat on her coffee table in front of him.

He cleared his throat and forced his eyes down to the box in his lap.

Popping the top, he reached inside to find two microphones. One was covered in pink crystals; way too sparkly for him.

"That one's mine," she explained, taking it out of the white tissue paper beneath it. "I don't even want to _think _about the bacteria probably collected by various, anonymous singers getting up to sing on each stage, so I thought it only made sense that we have our own…" She reached inside and took out his checkered black and silver, cordless mic; simple, sleek, perfect.

She turned it over and pointed with her finger to a metal square with his initials engraved on it; N.P.

"I thought maybe tonight we could test them out…" she suggested, eyebrows hiked.

He stared down at the mic in his hand, and the glittery one in hers. And his heart thumped hard in his chest.

She was taking it seriously.

She wasn't just trying to get him back and smooth things over.

She wanted him and she wanted the open road and music.

Licking his lips, he nodded.

"Yeah," he told her, tapping the mouthpiece of her mic with his own. "I got just the song."

She beamed.

.o.

Benny's was pretty dead, but it was a Wednesday, so Puck wasn't surprised. There were a few people playing pool or darts, a few more drinking at the bar or at a table here or there.

It wasn't open mic night, but the bartender was a good guy and didn't mind them singing. He'd heard them a few times and although he'd heard some real headaches in his time, he liked them.

The song Puck had picked out for them was better with piano, but since the guy who usually played on open mic night wasn't around, he figured he'd just have to work with what they had; his guitar.

Rachel grinned at the crowd as they climbed the stage and set up their mics.

She'd been memorizing the lyrics on the drive over and she was excited for them to sing together again.

And even Puck had to admit he was pretty psyched for it too. There was something about being up on a stage - even if it _was_ in front of a pretty bare bar - that struck a chord in him. This was always where he was meant to be. Not college, not in a classroom or a stuffy office. It was up here, under a spotlight, mic in front of him, guitar in his lap, and this songstress at his side.

Rachel looked beautiful under the lights; she looked like she was in her element.

And he remembered suddenly that first day he'd seen her, standing in the office at McKinley, looking way too happy for so early in the morning. Friendly and excited and happy to help. And he loved that about her; even though he'd rather sleep in 'til noon and wasn't always the nicest guy around. He loved that Rachel was the opposite in a lot of ways. Like that, he loved that she fit into this scene too. She fit in on this stage; she looked even more at ease, happier.

She looked at him, her smile stretching her lips so wide he wondered if it hurt. She tucked her hair behind her ear and she wrapped a hand around her sparkly pink mic before she nodded at him to begin.

And he chuckled a little under his breath at her eagerness.

He plucked the strings, nodding his head as he caught the beat.

Rachel took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

And when her voice reached out, there was a moment where his heart kind of clenched, because damn… He'd never heard anything more beautiful.

_Lyin' here with you so close to me…_

Her brows furrowed and she tipped her head, hair slipping over her shoulder.

_It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe…_

She opened her eyes and turned her head just enough to look at him.

_I'm caught up in this moment,  
>Caught up in your smile…<em>

He stared at her, eyebrows hiked, lifting his chin as he sang his part.

_I've never opened up to anyone…  
>So hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms<em>…

Their voices melded together then and his lips hiked in a half-smile.

_We don't need to rush this,_

_let's just take it slow…_

She rocked her shoulders back and forth as they sang the chorus, his fingers dancing over the strings a little faster.

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight,  
>Just a touch of the fire burning so bright…<em>

Her fingers flexed on the mic as she looked at him sincerely.

_And I don't want to mess this thing up,  
>No, I don't want to push too far…<em>

The crowd was paying attention now.

He noticed even the big guy at the pool table had stopped playing to look over.

_Just a shot in the dark that you just might,  
>Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life,<br>So baby, I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight…_

Taking her mic from the stand, Rachel turned to sing directly at him.

_I know that if we give this a little time,  
>It'll only bring us closer to the love we wanna find…<br>It's never felt so real…_

He shook his head, joining her.

_No, it's never felt so right…_

She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, turning back toward the crowd as they sang the chorus again, her fingers tapping along with the beat.

Puck noticed a few of the women swaying. And a couple had gotten out on the dance floor to swing each other around.

The beat picked up as the chorus ended.

_No, I don't want to say goodnight…_

Puck watched her from the corner of his eyes, ignoring the crowd entirely.

_I know it's time to leave…  
>But you'll be in my dreams…<br>Tonight…_

She closed her eyes, her voice gentling.

_Tonight…_

Their eyes met as they harmonized.

_Tonight…_

She grinned at him and he answered it with a smile of his own.

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight…_

Her brows furrowed as she leaned toward him.

_Just a touch of the fire burning so bright…_

He shook his head.

_Oh, I don't want to mess this thing up,_

She nodded at him.

_I don't want to push too far…_

Her head fell back, raising the mic as she sang a little deeper, pressing a hand to her heart.

_Just a shot in the dark that you just might,  
>Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life,<em>

His voice rose up alone.

_So baby, I'm alright…_

She nodded, smiling.

_Oh-oo-oh…  
>Let's do this right…<br>With just a kiss goodnight…_

Swaying, she drew the mic away as she sang her last line.

_With a kiss goodnight…_

And he finished the song, his eyes still on her.

_Kiss goodnight…_

The crowd, what little of it there was, clapped and whistled for them.

Rachel beamed like she had a whole stadium cheering them on, even giving them a little bow.

With a giggle, she tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to him, waving her mic at him and nodding. "Another?" she asked.

With a laugh, he licked his lips and nodded his chin at her.

She gave it some thought before giving him her song choice.

A half hour in, they stopped for a drink and something to eat. But eventually she was drawn back to the stage. They even took a few requests.

He loved every second of it. And what was even better, he could tell she did too.

.o.

"And when that man— You saw him didn't you? He was playing pool when we first arrived, but he was so excited a few songs in! Did you see him mouthing along?" she wondered excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat next to him.

They were on their way back into Lima, Benny's long in the rearview mirror, but Rachel was still working off the excess energy of their time on stage.

"Oh, Noah, it was so amazing," she gushed. "And just think, we'll have that feeling all the time!" She turned to grin at him widely. "How lucky are we?" she wondered, shaking her head.

And he stared at her a long moment, at the way her smile seemed so bright, so content.

He reached out and took her hand, lifting it up and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Pretty damn lucky, babe."

She squeezed his hand, her smile softening.

"Oh, and did you see the couple dancing?" she continued.

She spent the rest of the ride talking and he listened to every excited word; he never once let go of her hand.

.o.

He found the sixth gift on the dash of his truck the next morning. At first he was confused he missed it, then he realized that even after he dropped her off, with a lingering kiss goodbye, he was distracted thinking about her the rest of the ride home. He was starting to regret this whole 'take things slow' deal. It meant not following her up to her apartment and getting reacquainted with everything under her dress. Make-up sex was the shit! Why the hell was he putting it off?

Shaking it off, he focused on the box in his lap, flipping the lid off with his fingers. Inside was a miniature, hollow, hand-carved, wooden guitar case. Brows furrowed, he took it out, smoothing his thumb over the cherry colored curve of the base. Using his thumb at the thin seam, he opened it, to find it filled with three personalized guitar picks.

The first said _Noah_, the second _Puck_, and the last, _Take a chance_.

He held the third the longest, just staring at the gold writing a good long while.

.o.

He closed his locker one morning, whistling under his breath, to find Santana waiting for him.

He sighed, his brow raised questioningly.

She didn't say anything for awhile, just casting her eyes around the hall as she leaned back against the bank of lockers, thumbs tucked in the pockets of her skinny jeans.

Gone was the provocative act she'd tried before, trying to prove he was in a relationship because he wasn't taking in all her fine assets.

Gone too was the snappy bitch come to shove it in his face that she'd won; she knew who he was dating and she'd taken care of it.

He hiked his bag up over his shoulder and waited, arms crossed over his chest.

He could've left. Could've walked away and let her drown in all her silent apologies.

Instead, he said, "Maybe we could double-date some time…" He shrugged. "They've got a vegan menu at 'Stix that Rachel likes…"

She looked over at him, her brows furrowed, but the look passed quickly. Instead, she stood up straight, raised her chin, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Fine. But only 'cause Britt-Britt likes her… And tell the midget not to talk too much. Her voice gives me a headache." With that, she stalked off, hips swaying as she fell back into her groove.

But she tossed a half-grin back in his direction that said she was happy he got his girl back, and that he'd forgiven her.

So maybe she was still a bitch that derailed things for him pretty hardcore, but then… maybe he should thank her too. 'Cause he didn't like how it blew up in their faces, but maybe Rachel needed that push to realize he was worth fighting for too. And maybe he needed to learn the same lesson. That he wasn't disposable. He was just as important, just as vital, to Rachel's happiness as she was to his.

.o.

The seventh gift was a two-in-one deal.

It was a map, filled with hot spots all across the States that they could sing in. Places all the greats had been to before they got their break. Places very few people knew about off-hand. Places that he knew she had to have done some serious research to find.

On the back of the map was a timeline of how long they would spend in each place, with stops for landmarks or places she knew either of them might like in-between. It was like a giant road trip itinerary that they were going to spend a whole lot of time following, maybe even repeatedly, until they caught their break.

Part two of the gift was a pair of tickets to his favorite band; the city the concert was in was marked on her map with a gold star.

"These must'a cost an arm and a leg," he said, shaking his head, fingers holding tight to them, like he thought they might disappear if he didn't.

"They were worth it," she said simply. "And we'll have plenty of time to get there. Even to stay around and hopefully meet them. It's always worth a try!" she told him jubilantly. "They might even give us _advice_. On who they met or where they went; how it all unfolded for them. I'll take notes of course, just to be on the safe side." Her brows furrowed. "Or do you think a recorder would be more proficient?" She shook her head dismissively. "Either way, I'm sure we'll learn something that will help us on our inevitable rise to fame. If nothing more, you get to experience them live, which is wonderful! And while I'll admit they don't make my top five, I'm still looking forward to—"

"I love you."

She paused, her mouth hanging open as she was caught mid-sentence, her head turning slowly to look at him.

For a second, he didn't know why it felt so heavy, why there was a weird tension in the air. And then he realized it was because this was the first time he'd really said it since they got back together.

He scrubbed a hand down his 'hawk awkwardly. "It's not about the tickets, y'know? I just…" He shrugged. "I love you."

"I—I know." She bit her lip, her eyes shining with tears even as she laughed. "It just feels really good to hear you say it."

He nodded, eyes falling. He waved the tickets at her. "Thanks."

"Of course," she murmured.

It was later, after they'd gotten over the weird tension and she talked him into playing a few songs he knew they'd play at the concert and he was on his way out of her apartment, that she told him, "I love you too, Noah. I… never stopped."

He looked back at her with a crooked smile and said honestly, "Yeah, I know."

.o.

"I've been thinking…"

Puck looked up from the game he was watching, his arm tucked behind his head.

Rachel had her reading glasses on and her hair tied up in a bun. "What's up Sexy Librarian?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but her lips tugged up into a smile. Waving a hand at him to dismiss what he said, she instead moved over and took a seat on the edge of the couch, where his legs lay. "I'm being serious…" she told him.

With a sigh, he sat up. "All right, what're you thinking?"

She bit her lip, staring down at his chest a long moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I think you should go back to Glee."

His lips pursed.

"Hear me out," she said, holding her hands up.

He nodded.

"You've forgiven Santana," she reminded.

He shrugged. Yeah, he kinda did.

"And the Glee club didn't technically do anything to you…" She shook her head, reaching up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "I think, what happened, why you left, had more to do with the fact that Santana was the only one of the club who had really figured us out and she didn't support you like you wanted, even needed… Instead, she seemed like the catalyst, when in reality it was _me_… It was _my _insecurities that broke us up…" She stared at him searchingly. "You shouldn't make them pay for something they didn't do. And more than that, you shouldn't have to suffer without something that you really loved…" She half-smiled at him. "Noah, you deserve to go to Nationals… And I'm sure that they want you there with them. You've already put so much work into and you enjoyed it so much! You're _so close _to taking Nationals by—by the balls!" she cried exuberantly.

He laughed abruptly. "Did you just say _balls?_"

She flushed. "I… I got a little overexcited," she admitted.

Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. "All right…" he finally said.

She grinned at him. "Really?"

He rolled his eyes at her excitement, even as a grin started to draw up his mouth. "Yeah, I'll drop by the choir room and talk to Shue tomorrow."

With a happy laugh, she hopped up and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "_Yay!_"

He chuckled, and because it was only natural, dragged her on top of him for some 'congrats you won that argument making out.'

Score.

.o.

When he walked into the choir room the next day, he was nervous. His shoulders were hunched and his hands were tucked in the pockets of his jeans. How the hell was he even supposed to explain why he left in the first place?

Mr. Shue was mid-sentence when he spotted him.

"Puck!" He blinked a few times in surprise. "_Hey_… What, uh… What are you doing here?"

He ground his teeth slightly. Apologies, asking for a second chance, it wasn't easy for him. He cast his eyes over to the group, where everybody was staring, curious.

"I shouldn't'a quit," he finally said, lifting his chin a little higher. "I was pissed…" He glanced at Santana. "Not really at you guys. Just had some stuff going on in my life…" He shrugged. "So I'm… sorry, or whatever… that I left."

"Is everything all right?" Shue wondered, brow furrowed in concern.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, I got it figured out."

He glanced over the crowd again. "So if you'll take me back, I'd like to be there when we take Nationals."

Sam was the first to stand up, friendly grin in place, and holding out a hand to welcome him back into the fold.

Then Finn and Mike, an excited, bouncing Brittany. Santana and Tina followed, and slowly the whole group was standing, shaking his hand, patting his shoulder, even hugging him.

Quinn raised a brow as she met him, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. "Took you long enough," she said simply.

He snorted. "You know me, Q. Never do anything easy…"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well… Try not to screw this second chance up, huh?" She nodded her chin at him meaningfully before taking her seat.

And he got it, that she wasn't really talking about Glee, but with Rachel. He always kinda knew that she knew… That she had him figured out even if she never said it. And he didn't know why, maybe it was just that Quinn had been through some of the same shit as him, with having Beth and losing her, but he took her opinion to heart. And that she thought him and Rachel could work, that she might even be rooting for him to get that, it meant something to him.

"All right!" Mr. Shue clapped his hands, grinning at Puck as he took his seat. "Let's get back to planning." He waved a marker at them. "Nationals. Ideas. Go!"

As everybody started calling out suggestions, arguing for or against, Puck grinned to himself. It felt good to be back.

.o.

Frustrated, he tore up another piece of sheet paper, balled it up into a tight wad, and threw it far away from himself but nowhere near the garbage can.

Rachel raised a brow. "Writer's block?" she asked.

"I've hit a wall. A giant fucking cement wall!" He blew out a long sigh and shook his head. "It's driving me nuts. We've only got like, a _month_ 'til Nationals and I've got squat."

She sat down beside him, reaching out and taking the paper with the most lyrics, and just as many scratch outs, from off his pile. "Well… Maybe you need a break," she suggested, reading it over a few times. "What you have is wonderful, but maybe you're just trying too hard at this point…"

He scrubbed his fingers over his 'hawk and shook his head. "I gotta get it done… I left these guys in the lurch and now I'm back and I don't even have the songs they need."

"I thought you said Mr. Shue suggested you work on just one specific one for you to sing, a solo, and he would get the others to sing something of their choice."

"Yeah, but…" He frowned. "Their choices suck."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing but failed. "_Noah_…"

His eyes widened. "Seriously!"

Shaking her head at him, she rose from the couch, taking his hand as she went. "Why don't we go out for dinner? Focus on something else for awhile…"

"Dinner?" His eyebrows hiked as his stomach rumbled approvingly. "Where?"

"I was thinking… BreadstiX," she said, casting her eyes away.

His brows furrowed. "Isn't it Tuesday?" His lips pursed. "That's like, free appy's night. Everybody and their mother'll be there."

She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her dress. "Yes, well… I thought, maybe it could be our first real _public _date." Her eyes darted around nervously.

He grinned slowly. "You sure?"

She finally stared down at him, letting out a soft sigh. "I can't promise I won't be somewhat nervous, but yes… I—I think we should."

"All right." Nodding, he stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower first and we'll head, cool?"

She smiled. "Sure."

He kissed her, short but hard, before walking past her to the bathroom.

.o.

BreadstiX was packed. He was right, just about everybody he knew was at some table or another.

Rachel clutched her small, sparkly, pink purse tight in her hands as they walked behind the hostess to their table, Puck's hand at the small of her back, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"Puck!"

His eyes wandered around for who was calling him until he landed on a table with Finn and Kurt, Burt and Carole all sitting together. The elder Hummel was waving him over.

"Isn't that your boss?" Rachel wondered, looking up at him, her brow furrowed.

"Yeah."

Seeing their attention had been caught, the hostess pointed out their table for them, saying their waiter would be with them shortly, and then returned to the front of the restaurant.

"You mind?" Puck asked her.

Rachel shook her head, leaning into his hand slightly before they walked over to meet the Hummel-Hudson family.

"Hey," Puck greeted, nodding at the table.

Kurt was staring suspiciously at Rachel, his eyes narrowed like he recognized her but wasn't sure from where.

"Hey Puck." Burt squeezed his wife's shoulder. "I was just telling Carole here there was a good reason you haven't been over for dinner in awhile…" He half-grinned at Rachel kindly. "This is Puck's girlfriend, Rachel, Car."

Rachel smiled at the woman widely. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel. Noah's told me a lot of very lovely things about you and your family."

"Has… _Noah_?" she said, her eyebrows hiked slightly as she turned her eyes on him, a smile stretching her mouth. "I'm glad."

Puck shifted his feet at her expression. He'd known Carole practically his whole life; she was like a second mom to him. He was pretty sure she knew how big it was that Rachel wasn't using the nickname he'd adopted when his dad cut and ran, wanting to be stronger and thinking Noah was too pansy a name for a badass.

"Yes, he said you were a driving force in his childhood… Especially when his mother was so affected by what happened with his father. That you were always there for him. Like on days when his mother had to work late at the hospital and he didn't want to be home alone… He'd always go to your house and you would cut the crusts off his sandwiches for him…" She turned her head up and smiled at Puck. "Peanut butter and honey… Even though Finn only ever ate strawberry jam…" Turning back to Carole, she said, "I'm very glad you were there for him."

Carole stared at her, her eyes wide, before finally she looked up at Puck, her head tilted slightly and her brows furrowed. "I—I'm very glad too," she said, her voice softer, heavier with some unsaid emotion.

Puck's hand slid up the curve of Rachel's back, settling to gently knead the nape of her neck appreciatively. 'Cause she just said something he'd always kinda wanted to say to Carole but never really knew how. Plus, he was pretty sure she just won some serious brownie points with her.

With a wide smile, she reached a hand out toward Finn. "I don't believe we've met either. Although with everything I know about you, I feel like we have… Rachel Berry. It's very nice to meet you."

Finn took her hand and grinned lopsidedly. "Finn Hudson," he said, nodding. "Uh, good to meet you too."

Suddenly, Kurt's expression widened and he slapped a hand down on the table dramatically, drawing they eyes of his family. "The secretary!" he cried knowingly.

Rachel flushed, casting her eyes up at Puck uncertainly. Before he could even try to defend her, she stood up a little straighter and lifted her chin. "Yes," she said, simply. "I did used to work as a secretary at your school."

Kurt looked between them, his lip curled ever-so-slightly. He waved a finger between them. "So you two…"

"_Kurt_," Burt said, catching his son's eye and giving a subtle shake of his head.

When the table went quiet and Kurt curbed his interest at least enough not to say anymore, Burt continued, "I've already talked to Puck about his relationship… I don't like the circumstances it started under but I do trust him to know what's right for him…" He turned and looked at the couple and nodded shortly. "Rachel's a nice girl, with a good head on her shoulders from all I know… And Puck's an adult now. He can make his own decisions."

With that, the discussion was finished. Burt had made his point clear and nobody seemed interested in refuting it.

"We should go," Puck said, motioning a thumb behind him. "It was nice seeing you guys."

"You should visit more," Carole told him. She looked between him and Rachel and smiled. "Both of you. We'll have dinner, catch up properly."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Cool."

He reached out and bumped fists with Finn before saluting his boss and finally him and Rachel walked off to their table.

"Awkward," he mumbled under his breath.

She looked up at him, shrugging slightly. "Well I think we handled ourselves quite well."

He half-smiled. "Nobody threw rocks… So far, so good."

She scoffed at him even as she grinned.

He pulled her seat out for her before taking his own and without a second's hesitation, Rachel covered his hand atop the table with hers.

"I'm glad we came out," she told him.

He didn't remind her that Kurt, the biggest gossip possibly _ever_, would probably have it all over the school by morning. Because he was too. He didn't care who knew or what they thought. He picked up his menu and started scanning it for dinner. Forgetting about what everybody might think, about the song he still hadn't written, about everything but having dinner with his awesome girlfriend.

And when the night ended, he still didn't let it get in the way. He dropped her off at home and he left the song-writing and the worrying for another day.

.o.

He didn't know if Finn said something, or maybe what Burt said actually resonated, but Kurt didn't rat him out. Or, at least, Puck wasn't getting any more looks than usual, so as far as he knew, nobody figured out he was on a date with the former secretary last night.

He wasn't sure if he should be thankful or not. Truthfully, he kinda wanted it all out in the open already.

When he really thought about it, it was kind of funny. How when they were together but didn't want others to know, they had to try so hard to keep it quiet. But now that they were together and _not_ trying to keep it a secret, nobody seemed to notice.

Then again, maybe they just didn't give a shit…

.o.

"So what's Secretary Sex wearing to prom?" Santana wondered, raising a brow as she examined her nails in a dismissive manner. "I'm only asking because Brittany wants to double date… And she thinks we should color coordinate or some shit."

Puck snorted, looking up from his lunch to find her taking a seat atop the picnic table he was currently the only occupant of. "Yeah, I don't think we're gonna be cuttin' up the dance floor, San."

She rolled her eyes. "Still worried Sylvester'll sic the pedo-police on her?"

He grabbed up his sandwich for a bite and shrugged at her. "Don't think they'll welcome her with open arms."

"So what?" Her lip curled. "You're _eighteen_…" She flicked imaginary lint from off her Cheerio's jacket. "You've banged chicks twice her age and nobody was batting an eye then."

"Yeah, well, none of 'em worked for the school."

She pursed her lips at him.

"I didn't bang the English teacher," he muttered, scoffing. "I just hit on her until she brought my grade up so I could still play football."

"Whatever," she muttered. Uncrossing her legs, she hopped down from the table. "All I'm saying is…" She shrugged. "No judgment or whatever." With that, she sashayed away, meeting up with Brittany, who was bouncing excitedly in her direction. Their pinkies linked and they leaned toward each other for a brief, sweet a smile back at him, wiggled a wave hello, and then skipped off happily with her girlfriend.

He shook his head to himself in amusement.

Sure, it took a lot for Santana to wave the gay flag and get her happy on with Brittany, front and center, and hell, that took some serious guts, but it wasn't the same issue he was having. Maybe if Rachel wasn't the secretary before, it'd have been easy to get her in the prom and not have anybody make a big deal. But all the teachers and the principal knew her personally, and he was pretty sure if anybody knew what happened before she quit, there'd be same red flags flying. Yeah, they couldn't fire her, but he didn't want to test the boundaries on what they could do.

Besides, prom was for suckers.

.o.

"I bet you looked wonderful in that white tuxedo," she told him. "You could always reuse it."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Babe, I'm not going to prom."

"Don't be ridiculous, Noah," she harrumphed. "Everybody goes to prom."

He sighed, because she was on a roll now, convinced she could find him the perfect outfit to wear. She wasn't planning on going with him, but she did think he, quote, "should go for the personal experience, if nothing else. It's a milestone that everybody should enjoy at least once in their life."

So when he reminded her he went last year, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "That wasn't your _senior _prom, Noah."

There was no winning with this chick.

But, if he was being honest, it was kinda starting to sound cool. The guys wanted to all put in for a big limo and Santana said she and Brittany would be his dates and keep his manwhore ways in check if Rachel wanted. She firmly told him that she had no fears of him straying, but added that if he wanted to go with Santana and Brittany, she would support that. He was pretty sure she was only down with it because they were so in lesbians with each other she knew they'd never go for him. She was probably right, but he wasn't gonna test it anyway.

.o.

Somehow, and he wasn't even sure how exactly, he did end up going to his senior prom. He had Brittany on one arm and Santana on the other when he walked in, but they spend most of the night dancing with just each other. Which was cool because he spent most of the night dancing as a group with the rest of Glee club and seriously, it was actually pretty cool shit.

But he still left early.

Rachel answered the buzzing of her comm. as soon as he stabbed it with his finger. "Lemme up!"

He was in the building and on her floor five minutes later.

She had the door open as soon as he stepped off the elevator, his tux jacket tossed over one shoulder and hooked on his crooked finger.

He half-grinned at her, the fun of the last few hours still radiating through him.

"Hey!" she greeted, fiddling with the belt of her fluffy pink robe as he got closer. "You look very handsome! How was your night? Did you have fu—?"

He cut her off with his mouth slanting across hers.

She sighed, gripping the front of his shirt tight in her fingers.

His free arm slid around her waist and drew her in closer, until she was plastered against his chest.

Her mouth parted for his tongue, dabbing at the underside of her lip and skimming along the roof of her mouth. Her fingers curved, nails biting through his shirt at his chest.

"N-Noah," she panted, blinking her eyes a few times before drawing back just an inch.

He shook his head slightly before stepping closer until she walked backwards into her apartment. He kicked the door shut and tossed his suit jacket in the direction of the closet.

"Missed you," he muttered, kissing her again, teeth grazing her lip lightly.

"I-I just… We—You were…" She shook her head, trying to clear her clouded mind. "We just saw each other this morning," she reminded.

He kissed her again, hand smoothing up her back.

"Are you… I—I mean are you s-sure?" she stuttered breathlessly, hands finding the collar of his shirt, fixing it absently. "You said you wanted to wait, you wanted to be sure…" She swallowed thickly. "You wanted to trust me again."

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small, square card; he tapped it against her cheek lightly. Her eyes turned and then softened before they found his.

Five words.

Five words he'd used to convince her five months ago.

Five words that told him she was ready and he was ready and they were gonna make it this time.

_I can make you happy_.

"You do," he told her, voice husky, deep.

Her eyes filled with hopeful tears.

He wiped them away with his thumbs before they could fall and then his mouth was on hers and her hands were reaching, untucking his shirt from his pants. He drew his face back from her and buried it at her neck, pressing kisses right over her fluttering pulse, and down, down, teeth scraping over her collar bone. He untied her bathrobe with quick, wrenching hands, until it hung open, showing just how naked she was beneath it. He pushed at the shoulders until they slid down her arms and finally the fabric pooled at her feet. His hands smoothed over her soft, bare skin, from her neck to her shoulders, down the lengths of her arms and back up, sliding around to her back and wondering down her sides to the ticklish skin of her ribs. He dragged his fingers down along the flare of her hips, thumbs skimming her hip bones. He pressed kisses down between her breasts, cheek flattening against one. His hands squeezed before gliding down and cupping her beneath her butt. He lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively.

She smoothed her hand over his 'hawk, curling her fingers at the nape of his neck, nails scraping lightly. "I missed this," she told him, pressing her forehead to his.

"Lotsa time to make up for," he said, smirking.

She laughed softly. "And then?" she wondered, eyebrow quirked.

He walked her back toward her room, kicking her bathrobe out of his way. "I finish school, win Nationals, and graduate. We skip town. You wanna set down roots somewhere, fine. But we still sing; we still try to make a go of it…" He dropped her down on her bed and shrugged. "We can send in demo tapes…" He started unbuttoning his shirt from the top while she reached out and started at the bottom. "Sign up for those stupid reality singing shows." He tossed the shirt to the ground. "We'll set up a YouTube account and get our faces out there, our voices…" He kicked off his shoes and started on his belt. "Whatever we gotta do…" He reached for her, burying his fingers in her hair, drawing her face up to his. "We'll make it, Rach… Together, in music, every damn way, all right?" He licked his lips. "You just gotta trust me… You gotta be all in… We gotta take our chances on each other."

She swallowed tightly, and then, resolve firmly in place, she reached out and undid his pants, tearing the zipper down. "We'll combine YouTube and traveling… We can make videos while we're on the road, moving from city to city, just like I mapped out…" She crawled back on the bed and smiled as his familiar weight covered her. "And if that doesn't work, _then _we'll try out for The Voice… or something equal."

Her knees hitched high on his hips as he leaned down. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "You make me happy, Noah…" She shook her head. "And I've spent too much of my life being afraid and walking the line and pretending that I don't want to take all of these incredible risks… But I do. I want all of it." She drew her fingers over his shaved head. "I know what it's like not to have it now… Not to have you and those dreams…" Her brows knotted. "Even if we spend our whole lives chasing our dreams and never quite reaching them, it would be better than never having them at all…"

He dragged his thumb over the curve of her eyebrow and grinned as he nodded. "Yeah," he said.

He kissed her then; hard and deep, fingers fisting her hair, hips finding and meeting and fitting against hers.

And it felt good. It felt right and familiar and maybe even better than it did before the shit hit the fan. For awhile it was just his chest pressed to hers, all of her soft, naked skin, warm against his own. But then her hands were pushing at his pants, shoving them down and away. And he shuffled them off, kicking them free.

They rolled across the bed, she always did like to be on top, but he liked to make her fight for it.

He wandered down her body, mouth moving from her neck to her shoulder, nipping at the curves of her tits. He covered one with his hand, the skin of his palm rough, kneading, thumb rubbing around her dark nipple, flicking. His mouth found the other, flattening his tongue around it, circling it, lips and teeth sucking and dabbing until it was pebbled and swollen, until she was leaning up into the suction of his mouth, the teasing flick of his tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulders, rubbing and squeezing his biceps before maneuvering around to his shoulder blades, fingers dipping along the lines as they flexed and moved.

He made his way down to her navel and rubbed his nose against her soft belly, his unshaven cheeks scraping against her until she laughed lightly. He licked the seam of where her hips met her long, long legs and breathed warm, teasing air across the insides of her shaking thighs. He dragged his fingers down them until her breath hitched and her stomach contracted. Until her toes curled and she tried to close her legs around him. He hitched her knees on his hands and pressed them back, spreading her open.

And she watched him, her lower lip caught between her teeth, a warm, wanting flush already coloring her cheeks, her eyes half-lidded, her breathing heavy.

She was already wet for him. He pressed a kiss to her clit before he moved down, his tongue dragging a line along the length of her pussy. Her back arched, chest thrust up into the air, her head thrown back. He followed the same line with the pads of two fingers, before he slid one inside her while his lips sucked gently at her, tongue dabbing, making small circles that grew bigger. His finger thrust shallowly, slowly, teasing her by circling twice before sinking back inside just a little bit more each time.

Her fingers dragged down his hair and circled up; she gripped his ears in her hands and squeezed, before reaching further down and digging her nails into his shoulders. She panted his name the closer she got to coming and then cursed it when he slowed down or even stopped completely, drawing his name on her thighs with his tongue until she wasn't right on the edge anymore. But eventually, with his mouth and his fingers and his nose bumping against her clit, he made her come, screaming his name so loud he thought she might lose her voice.

And then he was climbing up her and she was handing him a condom, her hand shaking, her legs wrapping tight around his waist.

It felt so fucking good to be inside her again; to have her lips against his ear as he fucked her into the mattress. To have her nails dragging down his back and her mouth on his, on his neck, her teeth biting into his skin. To have her hair tangled around his fingers and to smell her, that awesome scent of her skin in every breath he took. To have her pushing him back, forcing her way on top, riding him, cupping his hands around her boobs, squeezing. To feel her coming around him; to watch her as her head fell back and her whole body tensed, her mouth falling open in a silent cry. To lay her back on the bed and wring another orgasm out of her with his fingers curved inside her as his tongue and teeth work on her nipples. To watch her lick his fingers clean before he slid inside her again.

They moved slower then; face to face. Her hands smoothed down his face; her kiss was soft, gentle. And he remembered that this was what he'd been fighting for. Not to fuck the secretary. Not to add another notch to his already infamous stud resume. But for the incredible woman who loved him as he loved her. Who didn't see him as Puck, the hot pool guy, or Puck, the football player. She just saw Noah; the guy who gave her Vegan shit a try and watched Grey's Anatomy with her. The guy who wrote songs and sang them to her in the quiet of her bedroom. The guy who had a soft spot for his nana and admired his ma for all her strength after his dad abandoned them. The guy who rubbed her feet and always left his wet towels lying around. She saw the goofy, insecure dreamer under the Letterman's jacket and the smirk. The guy who always feared he'd get stuck in Lima and turn out just like his dad. Who still thought of Beth every day, wondering if he made the right choice. Who just wanted somebody to believe in him, to love him, to want more with and for him.

When he came, his face was buried at her heart and her name left him on a breathless grunt. He panted against her hot, damp skin, his brow furrowed, his body stretched and shaking. She rubbed his shoulder, kneading the muscles flexing there, and feathered her fingers down his 'hawk, nails dragging back up at the nape of his neck.

"We'll be okay," she told him.

He lifted his head, chin balanced on her chest. And for the first time since he got her back, he really let himself believe that.

When his legs stopped shaking, he dragged her out into the living room for their own prom. They danced naked, with him twirling her and breaking out some truly awful dance moves. She spent most of it just laughing at him, her hair tangled, her hand pressed to her mouth. He'd never felt so lighthearted before.

Later, she fell asleep in his arms, wrapped up in her bed with its too many pillows and matching sheets and blanket.

He woke up some time around four, found a text from his mom that told him to "have a nice time at Sam's," who he remembered saying he was staying with for the night. He hadn't planned to stay with Rachel; in fact, he wasn't even gonna drop by until the next day, him and the guys were gonna get drive-thru McDonald's and play video games the rest of the night. But since everybody and their date looked like they had other ideas and he found the note from Rachel in his pants pocket, he dropped by her place instead.

No regrets.

In fact… Inspiration struck.

He maneuvered out of her grip, pausing when her nose wrinkled, but when she relaxed into the pillow, he slid across the bed and reached for the drawer where he was hoping some of his sheet paper still was. He grinned as fingers touched paper, but when he drew it out, it wasn't lined or marked with the usual "Composed by: Noah Puckerman," or the variation of both their names. Instead, it was page after page of hand-written apologies that Rachel never finished.

They all started out the same, "I know you won't understand and I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused…" but then they would turn into something else. She would write she missed him or that she knew breaking up with him was a mistake and then the letters wouldn't be apologies anymore so much as her wondering why the hell she ever let him go. Why she ever gave up on him. And they always ended the same with something like, "I wish I was strong enough to be everything you need and deserve. I wish I didn't miss you so much. I wish I didn't still dream about everything we could be. I wish you were here. I wish we were already past this and it was just a bump on the road of a long life together. I wish a lot of things I can't have. But most of all, a wish I know is possible, I wish for your happiness, Noah. Share you music, your voice, your passion with the world! Love always, Rachel*"

He read them all, all twenty-seven of them, scratch outs and rewrites and tear-stained pages alike.

And when he was done, the sun was coming up. He put the letters away and he closed the drawer. And he knew, as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her hair, that if he hadn't forgiven her before, he did now. 'Cause she'd been suffering just as much as he had.

They were on equal ground now. Partners. And they were going to get it all, together.


	9. Part IX

**IX.**

The sun was beginning to set, bathing their surroundings in a warm, orange glow.

"Just throw the ball," he called out, rolling his eyes and waving the bat a little where it was raised in the air.

Rachel stood on the pitcher's mound, with his number 20 baseball jersey tucked into her pristine white skirt. At least she wore sneakers though and not her usual heels. She wrinkled her nose at the ball in her hand. "Noah, I really don't think I can throw that far."

"Don't know 'til you try," he said, shrugging. "Let 'er rip, babe!"

She took a deep breath, smiled at him, and threw the ball as hard as she could.

He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when it made it only half way and then rolled to a stop in the grass.

Pouting, Rachel stomped her foot and put her hands to her hips. "See!"

Swinging the bat up behind his neck, he walked over bent to grab up the ball. "All right…" He waved his hands around as if to call the rest of the non-existent team forward. "Bring it in…"

Rolling her eyes at his antics, Rachel crossed over to where he stood.

He took her hand from her hip, half-smirking at her, and dropped the ball in her palm. "So throw from here."

"That's not how the game is played…" she reminded, her eyes turned off as she shook her head.

"So we make our own rules…" He walked back to the mound, saying over his shoulder. "We're good at that."

Rachel frowned at him to keep from smiling. "Remind me again why we're even doing this?"

He shrugged, kicking the mound and getting into position again. "'Cause we're hitting up Fenway Park this summer and you don't know anything about the game."

"That's not true…" She tossed the ball lightly in the air. "I know you wear attractive little outfits that accentuate your rear quite nicely."

He snorted. "My ass is always awesome."

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "And I know _you_ enjoy it, which is why we're going… Also, because I plan on stopping at a lot of museums and I expect you to at least join me." She held up a hand. "I'm not saying you have to enjoy them, although that would be nice, but at least give them a chance!"

"All right, all right, we'll do the museum thing," he told her. "Now throw the ball!"

Rachel drew a deep breath and then blew it out, shaking her arms nice and loose. "Okay…" She took a step back and then raised a brow at him skeptically. "Are you ready?"

Laughing, he nodded. "Bring it."

Rachel bit her lip and threw the ball toward him.

Close enough now, it was at least within reach of the bat.

As he swung, she gave a squeal of surprise and dropped down to a crouched position, covering her head with her arms.

Puck's bat connected hard with the ball and sent it flying far into the field to land unhindered and unchased on the green grass below.

He grinningly stared after it, bat hanging from his hand.

Slowly, Rachel stood back up. "That wasn't so bad," she said, dusting her skirt off.

Chuckling to himself, he tossed the bat away and walked over to her. Not giving her a chance to argue, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and then took a run toward the first base.

"No-_ah!_" she cried.

He skidded to a halt on the plate, panting lightly. "I'm gonna make a run for two. Y'think the pitcher's watching?'

"You're ridiculous!" she laughed.

"'m goin' for it!"

"Don't you dare! You put me down this instant! You can't ju— _Ahh!_"

Puck made a run for second base, hand clamped over the back of Rachel's thigh, grinning as she beat on his back light enough not to hurt but hard enough for him to notice.

When he stopped this time, he nearly fell over, but kicked his foot back to the plate.

"What d'you think? Third too risky?"

Rachel pushed herself up from his shoulder as much as she could. "I think the pitcher has her eye on you and you'll never make iii—_Ahhh!_"

Off like a shot, he raced toward the third plate and managed to swing her down to her feet as he stopped. Hands on his hips, he grinned at her, panting more obviously now. "All we got is home base to run… You in?"

She stared at him, his face flushed, his eyes twinkling with mischief and amusement, and she started backing up. "Absolutely!" With that, she pivoted on her heel and took off for the plate.

Laughing, he chased after her. He gave a loud, dramatic war-cry as they ran across the plate and threw his hands up in the air, taking one of hers with him, where he twirled her around.

Rachel giggled at him. "Congratulations on your win," she told him, before standing up on her tip-toes to kiss him lightly.

His arms wrapped around her waist and held her close as his nose nuzzled hers and their foreheads touched.

"You ready for this?" he asked her.

She dragged her fingers through the tail of his 'hawk. "In two weeks, you'll win Nationals, graduate, and then it's just one more week and we'll be on the road, traveling, singing, chasing our dreams…" She shook her head. "I've never been more ready for anything in my life."

"Good." He kissed her. "'Cause we're gonna kick ass."

Laughing, she nodded agreeably.

And as the field lights came on, Puck dragged her out to find the ball in the grass, telling her he'd show her how to hit this time and he'd throw the ball.

They spent the rest of their evening in that field, with Rachel donning his jacket when the air began to chill. And when they grew tired of throwing and hitting and running, they laid down on the cool grass and stared up at the sea of stars above. Or Rachel did, while Puck dragged his fingers through her hair and watched her face as it transformed with awe and wonder.

Eventually, they had to leave, and he dropped her back off at her apartment, where she demanded the ball game before kissing him goodnight.

Three weeks, he thought, grinning as he left her parking lot and headed back home.

Just three more weeks.

.o.

Sometimes she found herself thinking she was gong to miss Benny's. The bartender that knew them on sight now, nodding his head in greeting as he wiped out mugs with a rag that lived on his shoulder. The jukebox that never played C3 – Achy, Breaky Heart – and overplayed Springsteen and Mellencamp so much that the buttons were worn thin. The makeshift dance floor that couples would crowd in their denim and boots and swing around, holding tight to each other, laughing, hands knotted together tight. The warm, bathing glow of the spotlight that shone down on her as she and Noah stood center stage, their mics at the ready.

There would be other places, perhaps even replicas of the same, different faces, different songs, but the same place, really. At the heart of it. Bars and open mic nights and whatever stage that called their name, they would be there. But she decided, as she sat at a table with her sweating diet Coke in hand, toe tapping to the Motley Crue song Noah was knocking out of the park, much to the rooms appreciation, that Benny's would always hold a certain affect in her heart.

Maybe because it was where she first learned that she could be happy on a stage. Maybe because its particular spotlight would always be the brightest. Maybe because this was where she and Noah had their first date. Maybe because this crowd, these fans, were their first. Or maybe just because it was the beginning, of all those things; of everything.

Either way, she cherished the last few times she would be there before they were out on the open road, far from Van Wert and Lima and Benny's welcoming crowd.

The room was so warm she could feel a light sheen of sweat on her skin and her face flushing. She smiled widely, and clapped along to the beat of the song, mouthing the lyrics as she watched Noah in his prime, grinning as his fingers moved deftly across the strings of his guitar, as the lyrics came easy to his lips, as rock n' roll pumped through his blood, thick and deep.

And when his voice faded away the crowd roared, she leapt from her seat and gave a sharp whistle, shaking her head when he invited her up and instead cupping her hand around her mouth and shouting, "_More!_" Because this was his moment to shine, his moment to sing all of his favorite classic rock songs, and she wasn't going to get up there and lighten the tone.

He winked at her before stepping back up to the mic, hands already drawing out a familiar tune, brows hiked high. "You know this one?"

They hooted and hollered and clapped. And Noah took them away into another song that got them roaring and laughing and dancing.

Rachel felt the beat hammering at her chest and in her heart and moving her lips. And she was all the more aware that this was where her life was always meant to go, with the music, following its lyrical pattern, the highs and the lows just beautiful notes she's always been chasing, even when she didn't know it. She wouldn't want it any other way.

.o.

"The hell are we doing here?" he muttered, glaring at the menu.

Rachel slapped his shoulder lightly. "Shh, they're coming over." She smiled, lifting a hand to wave politely. "Do you think we should stand up to greet them?" she wondered, but she was already pushing her chair back.

Sighing, Puck followed suit.

"Brittany, Santana, it's so nice to see you again," Rachel said in hello.

Brittany grinned, bouncing over and grabbing Rachel up in a tight hug. "I totally knew you would work out." As she drew back, she stared at Rachel very seriously. "You're his lobster."

"That's… very kind of you to say," she replied uncertainly, casting her confused eyes to a shrugging Puck.

He looked to Santana, who was taking off an attractive jean jacket. They nodded to each other in a standard greeting and took their seats.

Brittany refused to let go of Rachel's hand as she sat down, instead playing with her fingers absently. "You have soft hands," she told her. "Santana does too… They feel really nice on my skin. Better than boys' hands."

Rachel blinked at her. "That's nice."

Brittany smiled at her. "I told San we needed double dates, because four is always better than two… I'm glad she picked you."

Puck frowned. "I thought you said Brittany was making you come out with us?"

Glaring, Santana scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Whatevs, so I wanted BreadstiX and you were paying."

His brows furrowed. "What? No, I'm not. You kiddin' me? The bill'd kill us. We're saving here. We can't pay for your 'Stix addiction, Lopez."

Twirling a breadstick around as she rolled her eyes, Santana tore the end off with her pearly white teeth. "Slow your roll, Puckerman. I gots mad connections here… They'll give us a deal." Raising a hand in the air, she snapped her fingers, and almost immediately they had a waiter standing before them.

Santana smirked at the couple across from her before saying, "Kenny, Britt and I'll have our special…" She raised a brow at Puck and Rachel. "Well?"

He and Rachel exchanged a look before telling the teen boy their orders. He scurried off quickly toward the kitchen.

She shrugged. "See?"

Brittany leaned into her girlfriend, smiling widely. "You're hot when you're intimidating."

Smiling, Santana leaned over to nuzzle her nose.

Eventually, they broke apart and Santana turned her attention back to Rachel, who had Puck's arm wrapped around his shoulders, fingers twirling her hair. "So… Midget… Where're you working now? And please don't say an elementary school…"

Puck glared at her.

But Rachel took her usual vitriolic jibes with a half-smile. "I work in an office as an assistant; I spend most of my time surrounded by mountains of paperwork."

"What if it rains?" Brittany wondered.

They turned to look at her in confusion.

She looked around at each of them. "If the mountains are paper and it rains… Wouldn't the mountains melt?"

Santana's brows drew together. "Britt—"

"Tell me about Lord Tubbington," Rachel interrupted. "Has he kicked that unfortunate addiction yet?"

Sorrowfully, Brittany drew a deep breath and shook her head. "I've been taking him to meetings, but if he doesn't practice the twelve steps, I just don't know what I'll do with him…"

Rachel nodded. "Well he's lucky to have such a great support in you, Brittany."

The bubbly blonde smiled. "San comes to the meetings too," she boasted.

At Puck's amused brow raise, the Latina pursed her lips and shrugged. "Whatever. He's a good cat."

"Well I think that's very kind of you," Rachel told her. "To care so much."

Santana stared at her out of the corner of her eyes before finally nodding.

"Oh! Oh!" Brittany clapped her hands. "You guys should be on my web-show! Fondue for Two!"

Smirking, her girlfriend nodded. "_Definitely_…" she agreed.

"Will you?" Brittany looked between them hopefully.

Rachel turned to exchange a look with Puck, wondering how they were supposed to let the eager girl down.

Thankfully, Kenny the waiter arrived with their drinks.

Carefully avoiding the discussion of being on Brittany's web-show, Rachel navigated the odd conversation with some amusement, tempered with a lot of affection for the airy blonde. And as Santana loosened up, she even recognized that beneath the hard exterior was a soft-hearted woman, even if it was really only for Brittany. For her first double-date, Rachel thought it went pretty good, even if Noah and Santana always found a way to snark at each other, making little digs that the other never took to heart, instead looking for a way to out-insult the other. What an odd friendship, she thought, but it worked for them…

By the end of the night, Santana was right, Kenny had given them a deal, but that didn't stop Noah from grumbling as he pulled out his wallet to pay for everybody, after failing to suggest they dine and dash, of course.

"Just a suggestion, babe," he mumbled at her pursed lips, before kissing them quickly. "Just tryin' to save for our future…"

When she still didn't budge, he sighed. "Fine. I'll pay the damn bill…" He glared at Santana. "See if we ever hang with you again."

"Please, pedo-Princess likes my girl," she reminded, nodding her head toward Brittany. "You're hooked now."

He snorted, handing the money over to the waiter. "Not for long," he said, covering Rachel's hand on the table, their fingers knotted.

She smiled back at him, her previous irritation over his dine and dash suggestion gone.

Not long was right. And she couldn't help but smile at how close they were to leaving Lima and hitting the road. Any fears she'd had were long gone; she knew where she was supposed to be, and it was on a stage with Noah.

.o.

Somehow she convinced him that it only made sense that she drive him to McKinley, where they were all meeting up to travel to the airport together. His ma offered, but she was working a double shift and she'd be dead tired by morning, so he figured he'd catch a ride with one of the guys. But Rachel offered up her car and said she'd be happy to take him, even warning her boss ahead of time that she might be late, even though they were getting to the high school at the ass crack of dawn.

Puck rubbed his eyes beneath the shade of his sunglasses and slouched further in the passenger seat, arms crossed, hands tucked up in his armpits. "S'fuckin' cold," he muttered.

Humming under her breath, Rachel readjusted the heat for him, even though it was already blasting. She was being quiet, which was weird. He glanced at her side-long to find she was still chewing on her lip, her brows furrowed.

"What's up?"

"Hm?" She glanced at him, distracted, before returning her eyes to the road. "Sorry?"

"You're a morning person," he said. "You should be all excited and bubbly and shit."

She half-smiled. "I am. I'm very excited for you. I think this is a wonderful opportunity for you and the Glee club to show off your amazing talents and ultimately be crowned victors of show choir."

He blinked. "But…?"

She sighed through her nose. "But, I…" She forced a smile. "I just wish I could be there. I… I'm going to _miss _you."

Puck shoved his glasses up onto his head, squinting against the angry sun making a bitch of an appearance right toward his eyes. "Rach, I'm only gonna be gone, like, a _week_, tops."

"I know…" She nodded. "It's just been really nice, all of this time we've been spending together again. And…" She shook her head. "I really am happy for you and so, _so_ proud. I just… I wish I could be there. I love watching you perform!"

He smirked. "Yeah, you do!"

She scoffed at him, reaching over to slap his knee. "Noah!"

He sat up straighter in his seat. "It's cool. It's just one competition, right? I mean, you're gonna be there next to me performing for all the rest, so…"

She nodded. "You're right." She turned off into the parking lot of the school. "And if you have time in between rehearsing and enjoying the sights, we can talk on the phone. One week is hardly any time at all!" she told him, brightly.

"We're good," he assured.

Drawing the car to a halt, she put it in park, undoing her seat belt and leaning forward to pull the trunk release. They each stepped out of their side of the car and circled around. Puck pulled out his duffel bag and hung it over his shoulder.

Chewing her lip again, she stared up at him. "You have everything? You made sure you brought all the necessities?" She pursed her lips. "Even underwear, even though I know how much you dislike wearing it?"

He snorted. "Yeah, sure, got everything… 'Cept my Wolf Among Sheep shirt… Couldn't find it anywhere."

Rachel shrugged. "You left it at my apartment… I wear it to bed sometimes."

His eyebrows arched approvingly. "Hot," he decided.

She rolled her eyes at him lightly before tugging on the strings of his hoodie. "Okay, well, have a nice time! Take pictures and make sure you get some sight-seeing in." Her eyes widened. "Oh, and pay attention to all of the rules and regulations the flight attendants give you, just in case there's some kind of accident and you have to exit the plane mid-air!"

Half-grinning at her worried face, he bent down and kissed her.

Sighing as she parted her lips, Rachel leaned into him. His hand buried in her soft hair, fingers kneading the nape of her neck. Her hands spread out over his chest. His bag slipped off his shoulder and hit the ground. He ignored it, his arm looping around her waist and drawing her in tight. One of Rachel's hands slid up to his neck, nails dragging through his 'hawk. Her teeth grazed over his lower lip while his hand slid out from the cover of her hair, his thumb brushing over her cheek. And when he finally pulled back, she was licking her lips, the fingertips of the hand still against his chest, curling as if to draw him back in.

"I'll call you when I land," he promised, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before he hauled his bag back up over his shoulder.

"Okay." She nodded. "Just remember you're going to be amazing!"

He smiled. "Love you."

Her face softened. "I love you too."

He started toward the waiting bus, where a few of the gleeks were already milling about, yawning, sitting on suitcases, waiting for the others.

When he looked back, Rachel was just opening her car door.

"One week," he shouted to her, walking backwards.

She smiled at him, nodding.

It was stupid, since he was the one just comforting her, but he kinda already missed her as he joined the others.

.o.

Most of the time spent leading up to competition day was filled with preparing. They practiced their songs and their choreography until they were practically doing it in their sleep. Puck liked it though, even if every muscle in his body was aching and he'd about give his left nut to have Rachel in his bed, giving him a massage. He wanted this. Maybe even_needed _it. After all their hard work, everything they'd done, they deserved this win. And he didn't care if there were other choirs out there that were probably all good people, just like them, because no way they wanted it as much as they did. No freakin' way.

Tomorrow was competition day, but Shue had given them the night off, figuring they were probably burnt out and ready to collapse. Since he was rooming with Mike and Finn, who were both out with their girlfriends, Tina and Quinn, he had the room to himself. Walking across the floor, he stared out at the city that never sleeps, the sights and sounds and lights drawing his eyes every which way. The streets were filled with cabs, the sidewalks with people, and it seemed like a constant blare of one horn, when really it was a bunch of them, all going off one after the other, like an orchestra of big city living.

And he wondered, as he peered down at the ant-like size of all the people, if one day he and Rachel would be in the fray. If, when they got it all, the big record deal and the platinum selling CD's and their names on a Grammy, if they'd live in a place like this. If one day their traveling would bring them back here, a culmination of their hard work, immersed in the big apple, another couple names to add to the history of music.

Standing there, with his sweatpants slung low on his hips, the room behind him quiet and empty, he watched the lights play over the buildings and he thought of Rachel's face when she'd stared at the stars. And not for the first time since he'd gotten to New York, he wished she was there to share it with him.

As if she knew, he heard the buzz and then the ringtone of his phone going off. Walking over to his bed, he fell back on it and grabbed up his cell from the table next to it. "Go for Puck," he said in greeting.

"Hey," she said, brightly.

"Hey, babe…" He settled his head back on an arm curved behind him. He checked the clock and then thought it over. "Don't you have work early tomorrow?"

"Yes…" she sighed. "But I can't sleep."

"What's up?"

She was quiet for a long moment before saying. "Are you alone, back at the motel, or…?"

"Yeah, Finnocent's out with Quinn and Chang-Squared went to an opera or something, I dunno…" He shrugged dismissively.

"So you have a little while then… _undisturbed?_"

His brows furrowed. "Yeah. Why?"

"I'm wearing your shirt," she told him, her voice dropping an octave. "And _only _your shirt."

Slowly, his lips curved in a smirk and his arm slid out from behind his head. He tucked his hand beneath his sweatpants, pressing the heel down on his shaft as he imagined it, Rachel splayed out on her bed in nothing but his grey shirt, her legs spread, knees up high, hand fingering the edge of the shirt as it lay pooled at her hips, pressing closer and closer to her slit. Licking his lips, he closed his eyes. "You wet for me, Rach?"

A puff of a sigh left her and he imagined her fingers sliding down, parting her, dragging across her wet pussy, one flicking back up to swirl around her clit.

"I'd be wetter if you were here," she told him. "If your fingers… So long and _rough_…"

"I got my hands on your soft thighs, pressing them open, sliding closer, tickling your skin… And I'd follow 'em with my teeth; your legs are so damn ticklish…" He gripped his shaft as he thought of it, of his hands framing her as his face dragged against her shaking thigh, teeth and lips nipping and sucking.

Her breath hitched.

"You touching yourself for me, baby?"

"I want your fingers. I want your _tongue_," she moaned.

"Your fingers are gonna have to do it for me, Rach… You know how I touch you; do it like I do…"

Two fingers, sawing in and out of her, circling her entrance before plunging back in. A swipe of his thumb against her clit randomly, never setting a pattern, keeping her close to the edge but never quite reaching it. If he was there, he'd have his tongue on her, licking a long, flat strip before he'd start pressing suckling kisses all around. And her hands would slid up and cup her little tits, squeezing, thumbs strumming her dark nipples, plucking them.

"Not enough… Not full enough…" she whined.

His hand pumped his cock, wishing he could sink it inside her and fill her up right, feel her, hot and tight, flexing all around him. "Add another finger," he grunted. "You got midget hands."

She laughed breathlessly instead of complaining about his 'misuse' of the word midget.

With his eyes squeezed shut and his ear pressed hard against the phone, listening to her breathy sounds, his hand working over his dick, thumb swiping at pre-cum and rubbing it into the head. He swore he could hear the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out of her, of her thumb rubbing hard and desperate at her clit.

"My mouth's on your tit, you feel that, Rach? Huh? My tongue on your pretty little nipple?"

"Unnh, _God_, Noah!"

He knew that sound, that high-pitched cry she made, when she was so close, so damn close, that could actually feel her coming apart. "You're almost there, just a little more…"

His hand moved faster, twisting, until he threw his head back and his hips jutted forward and he felt himself coming, the image of her laid back, her fingers moving frantically inside of her, her body arched, mouth ajar in a silent cry. And then she was muttering his name, "_NoahNoahNoah_," as she road her fingers right into an orgasm.

It was a few minutes of just panting on either side of the phone before she hummed and he knew she was stretching out, her hand splayed on her belly, legs shaking and body limp.

"You good?" he finally asked.

"Fantastic," she breathed back.

He chuckled. "'m not bad either." He'd have to shower and change his pants, but he figured it was worth it.

"I can probably sleep now," she told him.

"Leavin' me already? See what I'm good for," he teased.

"Well you're certainly good at it, there's no doubting that," she agreed light-heartedly.

He grinned. "When I get back, I want you in that shirt, and I wanna replay of everything you just did."

"Agreed."

They talked a few more minutes, just about their days before eventually saying goodnight. Putting his phone back on the table, he climbed off the bed and walked to the bathroom to get cleaned up. And later that night, as he hugged his pillow and fell asleep, he was still buzzing, and no longer feeling the ache of overused muscles from earlier.

.o.

Puck had never been so nervous. He was shifting from foot to foot, shaking his arms out and cracking his neck side to side.

"Dude, you got this," Finn assured, clapping his shoulder.

He half-smiled for his friends' benefit but he was pretty sure he was gonna throw-up on stage.

Regionals was hard enough, knowing that the song he was singing was his alone. But this was _Nationals! _This was New York _fucking_ City! He couldn't drop the ball on this.

"Everybody ready? We're up in ten!" Shue called out.

Puck's hands started sweating and his eyes suddenly found the exit sign.

Just then, his phone rang with a _very _familiar ringtone.

"Whose phone is that?" somebody wondered.

"Guys, you can't have phones on stage! You need to shut them off and put them away!"

Ignoring them, Puck dug his phone out from his pocket. So what if they'd said not to bring it with him, he had it in case of emergencies and he was gonna shut it off when he got called to stage.

"_Puckerman! _Phone! Off! _Now!_"

"Slow your roll, it's my girlfriend," he muttered, hitting the Talk button. "Babe, I can't talk. I'm about to go wow the crowd with my awesome skills," he said in greeting.

"Okay, I'll be brief!" she assured. "I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you weren't panicking… Of the two of us, you have far more experience on stage, so I'm sure you weren't, but because I can't see you, I started working myself up into a frenzy," she admitted. "Noah, you may not need to hear it and you may not even want to, but I just want to tell you that I believe in you and your song is beautiful and wonderful and you are going to amaze every single person in that building!"

Slowly, he grinned. "Yeah?"

"Every. Single. _One_."

"You sound pretty confident…"

"Because I _know_ you… I watched you write that song. I watched you struggle and fiddle with the tune and spend hours and days and weeks making sure that it was everything you wanted. Trust me… They are going to be in love with you by the time you're done singing for them."

He snorted, but scrubbed a hand down his 'hawk as he ducked his head, smiling to himself.

"So go out there and show them what you're made of! Okay?"

"All right."

"I love you."

He nodded. "Love you too."

"I'll see you when you get home… Or, ooh, text me a picture of your trophy, okay?"

He laughed. "Sure."

"Wonderful! Have fun!"

After he hung up, he shook his head to himself, shut his phone off and then tossed it toward Finn. "I'm gonna go win us a trophy," he said simply. "Promised my girl a picture and I don't think any other choir would be down with me stealing theirs…"

As he walked out of the room, he could hear them behind him.

"Did he say _girlfriend?_"

Mercedes scoffed. "Hold the phone, did White Bread say he _loved _her?"

"Puckleberry!" Brittany cried.

He could practically hear Santana's smirk. "We're _so _gonna win."

"Hey, would we get jail time if we _did _steal another team's trophy?" Finn wondered.

Rolling his eyes to himself, Puck walked over to the stage manager to get ready for his turn.

Nerves gone, he rolled over the lyrics in his head, jumping from foot to foot to get his blood pumping, and then nodded to the guy as his cue was given.

And when he walked out onto that stage, he forgot all about throwing up or making an ass out of himself.

He didn't forget the lyrics or trip over his words; he belted it out until the crowd was on their feet, even singing along to the chorus when they got the hang of it. And by the end of it, he looked around, panting, a grin splitting his face, and he knew Rachel was right.

He just won them Nationals.

.o.

New Directions went home to Lima with first prize; Puck sent a picture of him holding the trophy to Rachel, who sent back a shitload of exclamations and congratulations. Their last night in New York, they celebrated on the town, eating out at a fancy restaurant, the whole group of them singing _We Are the Champions_, much to the rest of the diners' irritation. And later that night, while Finn and Mike were sleeping, he called Rachel, still too buzzed to sleep.

"Hey," he said quietly, trying to be quiet.

"Oh Noah, I'm so happy for you! I bet you were amazing!"

He chuckled under his breath. "Had to be, since we won."

She sniffled.

His brows furrowed. "Are you crying?"

"I'm just really proud of you!" she defended.

He grinned. "I know."

She snorted, and he knew she was done crying and was probably rolling her eyes now. "Are you ready to come home?" she wondered.

"Yeah…" He shrugged. "S'cool here. You'd love it…" He rolled off the bed and walked to the window, pushing the curtain open to stare down at the city below. "We're gonna come back here one day… You gotta see this place, Rachel."

"I can't wait," she said softly.

He pressed his forehead to the cool glass. "How much longer?" he wondered.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Not long."

.o.

His ma picked him up from the airport and he spent a couple hours hanging with her and Becca, catching up and pretending he hated how she kept fussing over him and telling him how proud she was of him and how they'd rocked Nationals. But later, he said he was going out, rolling his eyes as she smirked at him knowingly.

Rachel buzzed him in and he was on her floor in a matter of seconds. The first thing he saw as he walked down her hall was her long bare leg coming out of her apartment, and then she swung out, wearing a smirk and his t-shirt. She crooked her finger and he sped up his footsteps, grabbing her up in his arms as soon as he was close enough. With a squeal of a laugh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in hello. He kicked the door behind him closed and bee-lined it for her bedroom, intent on making up for lost time and figuring she could show him how proud she was of him without any clothes on.

They spent most of the evening in her bed, ordering in food and going over every single detail of Nationals and New York. She convinced him to sing the song for her even though she'd heard it a hundred times before. And even as his curfew came and went, he lingered, arms wrapped around her, listening to her hum under her breath, her fingers drawing patterns on his arm. But as she drifted off, he climbed out of bed and got dressed, heading home.

When school rolled around the next day, he walked the halls with a grin. A banner was hung in McKinley, finally proud of them, boasting their achievement. And Puck didn't care if the hockey guys tore it down or nobody else cared what it said or what it meant for them. He cared that they had proof now that they weren't losers, they were talented mofo's. And they were all gonna make it somewhere. _He _was going to go far in life.

.o.

"So… I was thinking Rachel could meet everybody after graduation," Puck said, pushing the barbell until the stretch in his biceps and forearms burned. McKinley's workout room was practically empty besides them, but he still talked only loud enough for Finn to hear him. "Like officially…"

Sweating, Finn stood next to him, nodding. "Cool. You think she's ready for that?"

Puck grunted. "Yeah, we talked about it. She wants to know them, y'know, before we all scatter, right?"

Frowning, he took a seat on the bench-press next to him, tugging at the towel wrapped behind his neck. "You really think we won't talk after?"

Puck dropped the barbell back into place before shoving up to a seated position. He grabbed his water bottle and sprayed his mouth full. After swallowing and wiping his mouth dry with his arm, he shrugged. "I dunno, man… We're gonna be all over, right? I mean, Rach and I are gonna be like nomads for awhile. Always moving 'til we get our big break."

Finn nodded, lips pressed in a frown. "Quinn's going to Yale."

"Yeah…" His brows furrowed. "What about you? Connecticut your kinda place?"

"I dunno…" He stared at the floor. "I know I love her though… And I don't really have anywhere to be, right? I mean, Burt said I could take over the shop if I want to, but… Do I wanna stay in Lima for the rest of my life?" he wondered.

Puck shrugged a shoulder. "Guess that depends on if you're happy here."

Finn looked at him. "Yeah… I guess." He forced a smile then. "You'll visit though, right? Or if I'm in New Haven, they've probably got a place you and Rachel could sing."

He grinned. "Bros for life," he told him, holding out his fist.

Finn pounded it, smiling sincerely then. "Cool."

.o.

The days leading up to graduation went by in a whirlwind. It seemed like one day he was just a freshman, picking on losers, tossing them in dumpsters and throwing slushees in their face. One day he was just a scared kid who knocked up his best friend's girlfriend. One day he was just a dumbass trying to steal an ATM. One day he was a cocky football player, banging anything with legs. One day he was just a kid, with a guitar and a Mohawk and a chip on his shoulder in the shape of his dad and the next he was a high school graduate, with the cap and gown and the diploma to prove it.

After the ceremony, still wearing the red gown, having tossed his hat up in the air and never bothered picking it up - he was sure his ma would find one, dust it off, and keep it on the mantle at home or something - he went in search of his family. He walked through the crowds, high-fiving people he knew as he went, accepting hugs from excited Glee clubbers, like Mike, who jumped on his back and fist-pumped the air before running off to find another friend, or Tina, who wasn't graduating, but crying both out of being proud of them and sad that they were done and leaving. But eventually, he found his them; his sister, shifting uncomfortably in her dress and his ma, with her red-rimmed eyes and her camera waving, taking pictures of everything. Legit, he thought he saw her snap a picture of the chair she was sitting in. What the fuck…?

She burst into tears when she spotted him and wrapped him in a hug. "My boy… _My _boy… _graduated!_"

He snorted, patting her shoulder. "Yeah ma, I made it, I know."

He hugged her awhile longer, letting her get it all out, mumbling over her sniffling how proud she was of him, how she always knew he'd get here, how he was so smart and so good and he'd do so many great things. And he squeezed her a little tighter, 'cause she really meant what she was saying, even if he'd doubted it in the past.

Finally, wiping her eyes, she drew back. "Okay!" she said, clapping her hands. "Dinner? BreadstiX?"

"_Yes!_" Becca cried, fist-pumping.

His ma looked at him, brow raised. "Unless you have plans with your friends?"

"Uh, yeah, but not 'til after." His eyes scanned the crowd then before he dug under his robe and into his pocket. "Hold on…" He pulled out his phone. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Her brows furrowed.

Puck kept looking, listening hard as the phone rang, and then his mouth quirked as he heard the familiar ringtone coming from his right. Suddenly, the crowd parted, and he saw her in her pencil skirt and frilly blouse, holding her phone in hand. She answered it with a grin. "Hi!"

"Hey, look to your left…"

She turned slowly, her eyes darting, before finally she spotted him. He waved her over.

She paused, gaze drifting to who he was standing with. She bit her lip and for a second he wondered if she might just beg off and leave. And he would've got it. It would've sucked, but he didn't talk to her about this. It was split-second decision he'd made. They were solid on her meeting his friends, but she was still pretty worried about what his ma might think of her. Lifting her chin though, Rachel started toward him. Half-smiling, he hung up his phone and put it away.

"Noah?" his ma asked, eyes darting between him and the girl walking toward him.

As Rachel came to a stop next to him, he slid an arm around her. "Ma, this is Rachel, Rachel this is my mom, and my sister, Becca."

Smiling uncertainly, Rachel glanced at him and then waved at his mother before clasping her hands in front of her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Puck watched as her eyes wandered from Rachel's face (nose), to the Star of David at her neck, to the clothes she wore, which weren't revealing like, at all. And then he thought she was gonna cry again.

"_Rachel_," she said, smiling, nodding. "It's nice to meet you too!"

Rachel held a hand out to shake hers, but his ma only used it to drag her into a hug. With a muffled noise of surprise, she hugged her back slowly.

"Ma…" He rolled his eyes.

"Hush, I'm just saying hello to my future daughter-in-law."

Rachel squeaked.

He snorted. "Yeah, well, you're gonna be waiting awhile, 'cause we're hitting the road next week."

"Next _week?_" His ma let go of Rachel to stare at him wonderingly.

"Let's get dinner," he suggested, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulders when she moved to his side once more. "And we'll tell you all about it."

Becca, not surprised or interested in anything else, shouted, "_BreadstiX!_"

"Yeah, c'mon, squirt," he said, putting her in a headlock with his free arm.

He was happy to leave McKinley behind with a diploma in his ma's purse and his three favorite ladies at his side.

.o.

So his ma wasn't exactly thrilled, and it dawned on him a little late that he probably should've talked to her about it more. But he was eighteen and graduated and really, his life was up to him now. So they had their dinner and he answered her many questions about what they would do for money, what would happen if their singing never went anywhere, how they were going to find places to sing, what about laundry and gas and a place to sleep. And he was proud when Rachel didn't slink away or let her questions get her down. Instead, she answered them.

"We have some money saved up between us, but we knew it won't last… I've already talked with someone about selling my car, since Noah's so partial to his truck. And when necessary, we'll take jobs wherever we are, _slinging hash_…" she said, smiling at him. "As for whether or not we'll make it, I think it's important to stay positive, but realistically, even if we don't make it big, I think what's important is that we're doing something we enjoy… And maybe, down the line, we might decide to set down roots somewhere and leave the singing for weekends." She shrugged. "But as of right now, this is what we want and we have to try."

He nodded, gripping her hand on top of the table. "And Rachel's already made a kick-ass plan; she researched for everywhere we should go. It's like a giant road trip, mapped out with everywhere we're gonna sing and places we're gonna visit on the way." He grinned. "And all that other stuff, y'know, gas and where to sleep, it depends on where we are, how much cash we got on us, who's hiring…"

"And that's how you want to live?" his ma asked skeptically, looking between them. "City to city, hand to mouth?"

Rachel smiled at him. "We're not saying it will be easy… But nothing truly worth it ever is."

Puck couldn't say his mother changed her mind that instant, but maybe she understood some. She didn't badger them about it anymore, instead asking Rachel about her job and her family and how she and Puck met. Leaving a few details out, Rachel talked up a storm, which was kind of her specialty. Puck shot peas at his sister from his plate and commented here or there, but mostly just let them talk. And Becca was happy to play with the dessert menu, telling him three different ones she wanted to have even though he told her she'd be lucky if she packed away one after everything she ate.

It was only when his ma brought out the embarrassing pictures that he really started paying attention.

"And this was when he was four and he would only take baths with his rain boots on," his mother said, handing a photo over to a smiling Rachel.

"What?" Puck frowned, eyes darting between them. "The hell do you have that for?"

"She was showing them to people before you graduated," Becca piped up. "She was crying and telling everybody how proud she was of you. Mrs. Hudson-Hummel calmed her down and she put 'em away for awhile."

"Oh and this one's of Noah when he wanted to be a fireman. When I wouldn't buy him a Dalmatian, he thought every fireman had their own, he used a marker to draw black spots on Becca's white teddy bear and called him Spots the Fire Dog…"

Giggling, Rachel took the picture, dropping the other to a small pile in front of her. The one she holding had him holding "Spots" in one arm and the garden hose in the other.

"What was the cape for?" Rachel wondered, raising a brow at him.

Puck dragged a hand down his face. "I was a _super-_fireman," he sighed, feeling his neck heat up with embarrassment.

"_Awww…_" She smiled fondly down at seven-year-old him. "You were adorable."

"Babe, I was a _superhero_," he argued. "I was badass."

"He used to put out fake fires in the neighbor's yards," his ma put in.

Rachel pressed a hand to her heart.

"Oh, wait until you see the one where he was four, first day of pre-school," his ma told her excitedly, digging in her purse with vigor. "He stripped all his clothes off because he said it was too warm…"

"You didn't!" Rachel laughed.

"He did." His ma nodded. "The teacher made him dress again after, but they couldn't find his underwear anywhere…" Finding the picture, she held it across to her.

But Puck snagged it out of the air before Rachel could get it.

"Wasn't _wearing _underwear," he said. "Shit was tight and uncomfortable."

"Well you still don't, so things must not have changed much since," Rachel mused, taking the picture back from him. A second later, however, she realized what she'd said and who was listening.

He smirked as she turned wide eyes on his mother.

"That was inappropriate." She shook her head. "I-I'm sorry."

"I'm aware my son is sexually active," she answered, looking between them. "He does have a daughter out in the world."

"Yes…" Rachel looked back at him and covered his hand with hers as his eyes fell away.

"I hope you're being _careful _though."

He looked up quickly. "_Ma_…" he sighed.

"If you can't talk about sex, you shouldn't be having it, bubbala," she said dismissively.

"Oh I can talk about sex," he argued. "I just don't wanna talk about it with my mom."

She waved a hand at him, ignoring what he'd said and looked to Rachel. "You two say you want to be on the road, and that's fine for two consenting adults, but a baby has no say in it and I won't have my grandbabies living out of an old truck."

"We are being _very _careful," Rachel assured, striking a hand through the air. "We are by no means ready to have children and there is no chance of us raising them on the road. I agree that it isn't a structured enough environment for children. But…" She looked back at him. "Noah and I are focused on our careers as musicians and if children are ever in the cards for us, I think we'll be older and settled by then."

He stared at her a long second and thought of what it'd be like to have a kid with her eyes or her smile, with that killer voice of hers, and he thought it'd be pretty damn cool. One day. Way down the road.

"Yeah, so don't plan a baby shower any time soon," Puck told his mother. "We're gonna have a Grammy before we have a baby."

Rachel beamed.

His mother gave a short nod, before returning to showing more pictures of him when he was growing up. While he groaned, he had to admit some of them were pretty funny. And Rachel was a good sport, listening to her stories and going through every picture she had until her purse was empty.

And by the end of the night, while they were leaving 'Stix, his ma reached out to hug Rachel again, only this time she was ready.

"It was really lovely meeting you, Mrs. Puckerman. Thank you for letting me join you for dinner."

"Please, call me Aviva," she said, patting Rachel's cheek.

She looked surprised, but smiled even wider. "Aviva. I will."

His ma turned to him then and hugged him tight, murmuring, "I'm so proud of you," against his ear.

He squeezed her before kissing her cheek. Ruffling Becca's hair, he finally stepped back. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," he assured.

"All right. Have fun with your friends," she told him before stepping off the curb to walk to her car, an arm around Becca's shoulders.

Taking Rachel's hand, he started down the sidewalk, toward where his truck was parked, she was talking a mile-a-minute about how lovely his family was. When he looked back, his ma was standing by her open car door. She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. She might not be sure about his vagabond life on the road, but she was damn sure about Rachel. She was keeper. And Puck agreed.

.o.

After BreadstiX, they drove Puck's truck down to the outskirts of Van Wert, where Benny's was filled with people and music. He spotted the cars of various Gleeks, as well as Artie's dad's van, filling up a chunk of the parking lot. He pulled in next to Finn's truck and turned in his seat to face her.

"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked.

She smiled. "Of course…" She shrugged. "Seeing as Santana was probably the worst of them, I think I can handle the rest."

He snorted. "Got that right." Cutting the engine, he tossed her the keys to put in her purse and climbed out.

She circled to meet him and slid her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm a little excited and a lot nervous," she admitted.

"They're gonna love you," he said, squeezing her shoulders.

"Noah, I had no friends in high school, I highly doubt this bunch of people will be any different." She took a deep breath. "They were perfectly polite when I was just a secretary who happened to be dropping by, seemingly out of a sense of loyalty to the school. But they'll know my real intentions when they meet me this time, so…" She shook her head. "But that's fine, because we'll be leaving soon anyway."

"Brittany likes you," he reminded. "And Santana acts like a bitch, but she must like you… Seriously," he said, looking down at her, his brows hiked, "She doesn't eat 'StiX with just anybody."

She half-smiled. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah, babe."

"And Finn seemed pleasant enough."

"Yeah, he's cool." He reached for the door to Benny's and opened it; almost immediately, they were hit with a blast of warm air from all the bodies filling the one space. Music was blaring loud enough that he winced at first, but his smile never faded. He held the door wider for her to walk in and put a hand at the small of her waist to guide her. Taller than her, he could spot his friends easier, and eventually found them at a collection of tables all pushed together, close to the front stage.

As they were walking by, he gave the usual head-nod to the bartender, who waved his favorite beer and a can of diet-coke at them knowingly.

He cracked a grin in reply.

Rachel's fingers dug into his side the closer they got to the table, so he rubbed his thumb back and forth on her back soothingly. When he felt her footsteps slow down, he bent his mouth to her ear.

"I _promise_ you, they're nice… And if not…" He shrugged. "Have you _seen _my guns?"

She laughed, turning a grin up at him. "I have, and they're lovely," she assured.

When they reached the tables, Kurt suddenly chirped, "I _told _you!" He pointed. "Miss. Berry. School secretary. You all_owe _me!"

Finn rolled his eyes. "Hey," he said, holding a hand out.

She smiled faintly, taking his hand. "Hi! It's nice to see you again, Finn."

"What up, midget-face," Santana said, walking over to sling a casual arm around her. "Britt just left to call Lord Tubbington… Something about telling him goodnight…" She rolled her eyes, an affectionate smile tugging at her mouth.

Quinn stood up then and walked over, chin held high and eyes moving over Rachel smoothly.

Puck felt himself stiffen for a second, not sure what to expect.

But Quinn smiled. "Good to see he didn't screw things up," she said in what passed as a greeting. "I know you saw us perform a few times, but we weren't really introduced, so, I'm Quinn."

"Finn's slave-driver," Puck told her.

Rachel slapped his chest admonishingly.

With a snort, he started pointing. "That's Chang-1 and Chang-2, Wheels, Lady Gaga, Lady Gaga's boyfriend, Aretha—"

"_Noah_," Rachel complained, pursing her lips. Looking back at the group, half of which was amused at the casual use of his first name, she said, "It's Mike and Tina, right?" she said, looking to the Asian couple, who nodded at her, smiling. "And… _Artie?_" He bowed his head in hello. "Kurt I've met, so you must be…" She frowned. "_Warbler?_"

He laughed. "Blaine… Previously of The Warblers glee club."

When she looked back at Puck, peeved with his crappy information, he shrugged. "I was close."

Rachel scoffed. Looking back, she said, "Mercedes, I remember; your vocal range was quite amazing."

Mercedes grinned at her approvingly.

Looking to the boy next to her, an arm around Mercedes' shoulder, Rachel said, "Which makes you Sam."

"Trouty-Mouth," Santana and Puck said simultaneously.

For his part, Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Well, it's nice to meet all of you… _Properly_," she said, leaning back on her heels. "Noah's told me a lot of great things."

"_Has _Noah?" Kurt said, eyebrow ticked in amusement.

Puck shrugged.

"Puckleberry! Puckleberry! Puckleberry!" came a cry from behind them. As they turned, Rachel was soon overwhelmed by Brittany, who wrapped her in a hug. "_Yay!" _she said, bouncing on her tip-toes as she drew back.

Rachel smiled. "Hi Brittany."

"'Nough o' this, let's sing," Santana said, grabbing up Brittany's hand and drawing her to the stage. "'Bout to bring some Nationals-winning talent up in here!" she exclaimed.

Rachel gave a squeak of surprise when Puck's arm ringed her waist and tugged her down into his lap as he took a seat to watch.

He smirked when her cheeks flushed and her eyes darted quickly to his friends and then back to the stage. Her hands settled over his arm, tucked comfortably around her still. And slowly, she relaxed, leaning back so she was against his chest, her head on his shoulder, so he could see too. Her hair was soft, sifting over his neck, smelling like flowers and apples. He breathed it in with a half-smile.

Brittany and Santana were talking to one of the guys in the band who played whenever the stage was open.

As San took her place at the mic, lifting her chin in a show of confidence, she tangled her fingers with Brittany's, standing at her side. He'd seen them sing before, usually separately, passing a wink or a smile to each other as they danced, but maybe there was something about graduating and freedom, because when they stood on the stage, they leaned into each other, singing directly to one another, lips curled in the kind of smile only lovers share. And Santana's face was softer than he'd ever seen, loving. It was good, to see her find that kind of peace.

He and Santana were too much alike sometimes; it was why they made better friends. They got each other. She could be a bitch and him an asshole and at the end of the day, they accepted that side of each other. She was angry, just like he'd been. They had their shit to deal with and they mostly did it by fucking anything that moved. Brittany and Rachel were complete opposites, besides being sweet and supportive, but they fit each of them somehow.

Puck squeezed his arm around Rachel's waist as Santana hit a high note, and she turned her head slightly, nose brushing against the shell of his ear.

"Hey dude," Finn suddenly said, socking him in the shoulder. "Sam wants us to sing Bieber, y'know, reminisce or whatever."

With a snort, he glanced at his best friend. "'m in," he replied.

The crowd clapped happily for Santana and Rachel, who returned to the table, flushed and smiling.

Puck patted Rachel's hip and she climbed from his lap.

"You gonna be okay down here?" he asked.

She nodded. "I think I can handle a four minute pop song with your friends," she assured.

He kissed her cheek before joining the guys, minus Kurt and Blaine, while she took the seat he'd vacated.

He watched her from the stage, where Sam and Artie were figuring things out with the band. She looked like she was getting along with the girls. Santana and Brittany were on either side of her, with the blonde petting Rachel's hair. She and Quinn were talking, his ex with her elbows on the table, nodding and smiling at something Rachel was saying. Mercedes, Tina, Kurt and Blaine were all heavily involved in a conversation separately, but when they heard something of interest, suddenly the whole group of them were all talking.

Puck grinned; he knew they'd like her. He didn't know what those douches back in Westerville were on, 'cause his girl was the shit.

After he and the guys sang some Bieber, everybody tried their hand at a song or two, trading singing partners here or there.

"So Finn told me you and Puck are hitting the road, chasing spotlights," Quinn said, looking over at them.

Rachel smiled. "Yes. We leave town next week."

"So you can sing then?" Kurt asked, brow raised rather skeptically.

"It's supposed to be even harder to get a music career going from the road," Mercedes said, looking between them. "Did you apply to any performing arts schools?"

"Rachel's got a killer voice and," Puck shrugged, "School's not our style."

"Well, I wanna hear Babs rock it," Santana said, raising a hand in the air. "If you fools in love are gonna be on MTV one day, I wanna say I saw you sing before you were famous."

Rachel smiled. "That's kind of you to say, but—"

"C'mon, girl, Puck doesn't hand out compliments easy," Mercedes told her. "If he says you can sing, he's probably right."

"Sing! Sing! Sing!" they cheered.

Brittany bounced in her seat, nodding. "Do Ke$ha!"

"All right, all right…" Puck waved his hands to calm them down. "You wanna show 'em?" he asked her.

Rachel looked back at him. "I get the feeling they won't stop asking until we do."

He smirked. "They won't."

They climbed from their seats and started toward the stage.

The Gleeks all cheered, hooting and hollering from their tables, and some of the crowd spotted and recognized them, whistling their approval.

They didn't have their mics on them, since Rachel had already started packing and had put them away for safe-keeping. But there were a few different stands set up, so they each took a microphone in hand after discussing their song choice with the band.

The spotlight felt good; warm on his skin; familiar. A smile came easy, automatically.

The piano started behind him, a gentling tinkling.

He and Rachel stood close together, with him facing the crowd and her on his right and angled toward him. She held the mic with both hands as she swayed slowly, moving her hips and shoulders, feet planted.

She smiled at him as he began to sing, leaning toward her a little.

_I finally found someone…  
>That knocks me off my feet…<br>I finally found the one…  
>That makes me feel complete…<em>

She shook her head slightly, staring up at him as she raised her mic and let her voice reach out.

_We started over coffee…  
>We started out as friends…<em>

A smile stretched her lips.

_It's funny how from simple things,  
>The best things begin…<em>

His brows furrowed, body turning to face hers.

_This time it's different…  
>It's all because of you…<em>

He nodded his head toward her.

_It's better than it's ever been…_

She joined him as they sang a little deeper.

_'Cause we can talk it through…!_

Her eyes closed and her head fell back gently as she took over.

_Oohh…  
>My favorite line,<br>Was, "Can I call you sometime?"_

She smiled widely, brows hiked.

_It's all you had to say,  
>To take my breath away…<em>

His hand found her hip as they stood, facing each other, their voice raising, deep as they harmonized together.

_This is it…!  
>Oh…<br>I finally found someone…  
>Someone to share my life,<br>I finally found the one…  
>To be with every night…<em>

Her hand reached out and touched his chest, thumb flicking a button on his shirt.

_'Cause whatever I do…_

He shook his head, brows knotted.

_It's just got to be you…_

Her hand drew down his chest as they sang softly.

_My life has just begun  
>I finally found someone…<em>

She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear as they began their back and forth.

_Did I keep you waiting?_

He shook his head.

_I didn't mind…_

She pressed her hand to her chest, bunching up her dress over her heart.

_I apologize!_

He half-smiled.

_Baby, that's fine!_

He nodded.

_I would wait forever…_  
><em>Just to know you were mine…<em>

He reached out and wrapped a tendril of her hair around his finger, letting it slide down the length.

_You know I love your hair…_

Her eyes followed his hand, lips tilted in a smile.

_Are you sure it looks right?_

His knuckles dragged down the center of her chest, against the soft fabric of her purple dress.

_I love what you wear…_

She stared up at him from below long lashes.

_Isn't it too tight?_

He drew her forward by the belt at her waist and her body arched toward him, her hand landing on his chest, fingers gripping his shirt.

_You're exceptional!  
>I can't wait for the rest of my life...<em>

Her chest was heaving now with the effort of her breathing, brows knotted as she sang loud and clear.

_This is it…!  
>Oh…<br>I finally found someone…_

His hand slid around to her side and skimmed up, following the line of her back.

_Someone to share my life!_

His brows furrowed with intensity.

_I finally found the one…  
>To be with every night…<em>

Her hand slid from his chest to wrap around his elbow, fingers curving up and stroking his forearm.

_'Cause whatever I do…_

He squeezed the nape of her neck and shook his head.

_It's just got to be you…  
>Oh yeah…<br>My life has just begun,  
>I finally found someone…<em>

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

_And whatever I do…_

She pointed a finger at his chest.

_It's just got to be you…_

As her voice carried off, she opened her eyes, shiny with tears, and together, they sang the end with soft reverence.

_My life has just begun,  
>I finally found someone...<em>

For a brief moment, they stood just panting, staring at one another, and then suddenly the roar of the crowd, of his friends, filled his ears.

And with a light laugh, he stepped back from her, his arm sliding around her waist and his hand, holding his mic, fell to his side.

Rachel grinned, leaning into him, her head leaning on his arm.

The Gleeks were the loudest. Santana was even on a chair, fingers between her lips to give a loud catcall.

Rejoining the table, Puck smirked proudly as they all started asking her if she had a vocal coach, was she in her high school glee club, and was she a big Streisand fan. He sat back, watching her as she animatedly discussed music and growing up and how she'd wanted to be a singer when she was very young but then focused her attention elsewhere. And maybe they'd only be in town for another week, but he knew they'd be seeing these guys a lot in that time. He could hear Rachel agreeing to a girls-only movie night at Quinn's place and promising Brittany that they would have another double-date with her and Santana before they skipped town. Somehow the topic got onto Avatar and Sam geeked out when he realized she liked it. And Puck was happy, 'cause he was right. They liked her. And she liked them, if the excitement and the smile on her face was anything to go by.

And when the night finally came to an end, they all shuffled out of Benny's and toward their cars and trucks and Artie's van.

They congratulated each other on making it, finishing high school and winning Nationals and having their whole damn futures ahead of them. He and Rachel leaned back against the bumper of his truck and watched their tail lights as they sped off out of the parking lot, destination Lima.

"You have amazing friends," she told him, tipping her head up to see his face.

"Yeah, they're all right." He squeezed her shoulder. "Told ya they'd like you."

She smiled. "They did, didn't they?"

He nodded and kissed her forehead.

"Quinn invited me for a girls-only movie night," she informed him happily.

"I heard. S'cool."

"And Kurt wants to take me shopping. He and Tina have ideas about outfits I can wear on stage."

He walked her around to the passenger side of his truck and helped her in. When he returned to his side and slid into his seat, closing the door, she was still practically bouncing in her seat.

"And Mercedes had a few tips to help with my range, which was very kind of her!"

The rest of the ride back into town was spent with Rachel talking about how nice they were and how she was happy to meet them. And when they climbed into bed, tossing her way-too-many pillows to the ground, she slid in next to him and told him, "I've never felt more accepted in my life than when I became a part of yours."

He gathered her up close. "Ditto, babe."

She smiled, resting her chin on his chest. "You graduated," she told him.

He grinned, drawing circles on her shoulder. "Yup."

"And this time next week, we'll be on the road."

He nodded. "World, here we come."

She sighed wistfully. "I think we're going to make it, Noah… Not just together, but in our music and in life…" She traced a heart in his skin with her finger. "Do you?"

He stroked her hair back from her face. "I _know _it."

Kissing his chest, she nodded. "Then we will."

.o.

The following week, Rachel and Puck said goodbye to Lima, Ohio. Puck kissed and hugged his mother and sister on the porch of his childhood, promising he'd call. They spent their last night on the town the Glee club, exchanging phone numbers and emails and assurances that they would keep in touch. And with the majority of Rachel's apartment packed up and sent to her father's to be stored until a time they might need it and her car sold to cushion their road trip of dreams, they had no more ties left to cut.

They climbed into Puck's beat-up truck, their bags and his guitar case, their sheet music and necessities all filling up the back. And while passing the "You Are Leaving Lima" sign, he grinned, relief running through him, warm and strong.

Rachel plucked up his ukulele from where it had been sitting on the bench seat between them and held it against her chest. "I have officially mastered one song," she told him.

"Yeah? Play it for me," he suggested.

Bare feet up on the dash of his truck, wiggling her toes in the sun that shone through the windshield, she settled back and started plucking at the strings. He didn't catch the tune right away, but when he did, he shook his head, grinning.

And as they drove forward into their future, with Lima at their backs, his voice rang out in the cab of the truck.

"_Good times never seemed so good_…"

[**End**.]


End file.
